Fifteen Years Later
by Corinna McDonald
Summary: She fell in love with him. And fifteen years later, she kissed him. GSR, Complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ahhh…please don't hurt me… I'm taking a break from Like Cinderella because I'm just not happy with how it's going right now and I'm such a temperamental little writer. So…I've decided to try this out. I hope you guys like it! As per usual, CSI ain't mine. Also, I fail to own Surround Sound (which I believe is owned by Dolby Digital) or Technicolor (I have no idea who owns that.)

Prologue 

Sara Sidle could remember the day she met Gil Grissom perfectly. It was etched into her brain in Technicolor with Surround Sound.

She'd been only twenty, a fresh transfer from Harvard to Berkeley. Sara had bloomed in college, becoming more popular than she'd ever been. Sara Sidle the party girl didn't notice men like Gil Grissom. Sara Sidle the student noticed him, though. She noticed his brain first as he lectured about insect timelines and forensics. Then she noticed his looks.

All the boys she met at Berkeley were just that. Boys. Sure, a few of them were good looking. Jack Tanner, an ex-boyfriend of Sara's, who turned out to be gay, had thick, fluffy chestnut colored hair, friendly hazel eyes, a handsomely chiseled face, and a good body. But even Jack hadn't exuded the sheer charm and charisma that had poured out of Gil Grissom.

The second time Sara met Gil Grissom, she was on her way to get some coffee.

"Oof." Sara stumbled backwards as she collided with a very muscular chest. "I'm so sor…" The words died on her lips as she realized she was looking up into the eyes of Gil Grissom.

Now, not only did he exude charm, but he was adorable as well. Gone were the thick, Coke-bottle glasses with the oversized frames. He'd shaven his stubble, so now his face was smooth. And he'd taken off his windbreaker, revealing the nicest set of forearms Sara had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

So, at that moment when she collided with him and gazed up into the most intense, warmest baby blues imaginable, she'd fallen directly in love with the handsome professor teaching Forensics 101.

She'd fallen in love with him. And she'd kissed him.

Fifteen years later.

A/N: I know it's really short, but it's just the prologue! The basic outline of the story as I'm seeing it is kind of a casefile/romance thing. Grissom and Sara are working on a case that forces them to go back to Berkeley and relive when they were there and they end up kissing, Grissom wigs out…blah blah blah. Review with thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow. I have nothing witty or pithy to say. Besides I hate my family. But other than that, we'll just stick with the regular disclaimer that the only part of CSI I own are a couple CSI books. Also, I know that the police wouldn't ignore a missing persons call in real life, but for now let's just play pretend, mainly because it's an important part of the story. Anything in the name of GSR, right?

Chapter One 

Sara wrapped Nick in a bear hug the second she arrived at CSI the first night he was back.

"It's good to see you." She squeezed him. "I missed you."

Nick, stunned by Sara's uncharacteristic display of affection, hugged her back. "It's good to see you too, Sar."

She sat down on the couch between Nick and Warrick. "Assignments." Grissom breezed into the break room, carrying a cup of coffee. "Nick, Warrick, floater at Lake Mead. Greg, you're with Catherine…hey, where is Catherine anyway?"

"No clue." Greg shrugged. "So, what've we got?"

"Oh, uh, missing kid in Summerlin."

"Oh." Greg turned subdued. "I'll, uh, go find Catherine."

"Good. Sara, I need to see you in my office, please."

Sara cocked an eyebrow. _At least he said please._

_Sorry._ Nick mouthed.

Sara shrugged and nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

------------------------------

"So, what did you need?" Sara dropped into a chair opposite Grissom.

"Do you remember Victor Thomason?"

"Vaguely." Sara brushed her hair back. "He taught Forensics 102, right?"

"Right. His daughter, Amy, went out to a part last Friday and didn't come home afterwards. He assumed she stayed overnight at her friend Tricia Malone's house. When she didn't come home on Saturday, he got worried."

"So, what can we do for Professor Thomason?"

"He wants us to work Amy's case. We'd officially be on vacation. But we've both got plenty stored up. So, what do you say?"

Sara quickly analyzed the pros and cons. _Pros: Time with Grissom, Ecklie off my back about that vacation time, a way to help Grissom out… Cons: …none._

"I'll go." She decided.

"You will?"

Sara nodded. "I never had his class, but if it means this much to you, I'll do it."

"I'll call Victor."

------------------------------

Sara finished unpacking just as there was a knock on her door. "Come in!" She called.

"Hey." Grissom poked his head through the connecting door. "Victor is waiting for us downstairs."

"Be right there." Sara stuffed her suitcase under the bed and followed Grissom to the lobby.

"Gil!" Victor Thomason was still handsome, even at fifty-three. His sandy blonde hair hadn't lost much of its color and his arms were still muscular, chest still well defined. Victor's eyes were a soft, velvety stone gray color, open and shining with warmth, versus Grissom's shadowed, ice-blue orbs. Thomason had four inches on Grissom, placing him squarely at 6'2".

"Victor." Grissom gripped Thomason's hand.

"And this lovely lady must be Sara."

Sara nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Professor Thomason." Sara, too, held out her hand.

"Nonsense. Please, call me Victor."

"Of course." Sara couldn't help but wonder at Thomason's near-exuberance. It didn't make sense for a man whose daughter had been kidnapped.

"How are Veronica and Spencer?" Grissom asked.

"Veronica's pretty broken up." Victor admitted, becoming somber again. "Spencer is, as usual, trying to pretend he's okay." His bubble demeanor returned. "Now, what is this about you staying in a hotel? I insist that you stay with me. I've got plenty of room."

"Victor, really, the hotel is fine." Grissom broke in.

"Absolutely not." Victor insisted. "I'll have Lucia get two rooms ready right now." He whipped out his cell phone.

"Lucia?" Grissom asked. As far as he was aware, Victor was completely single.

"The maid." Victor answered.

_Isn't he a college professor?_ Sara sent Grissom a text message.

_Wrote a book._ Grissom replied. _Huge seller. Also invested in Regent Forensics Supplies._

Sara nodded.

"Ah. Here we are. Gil, Sara, please come in." Victor led them into his sprawling estate. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Veronica, and my son, Spencer."

"Nice to meet you." Veronica said politely.

Spencer eyed Sara, causing Lucia to lightly smack him on the back of the head. "Nice to meet you." He grumbled.

"Let's go to my office." Victor led Grissom and Sara down the hallway.

"Victor, why aren't the police involved?" Grissom asked, point-blank. "Why call us? We don't have a crime lab on hand."

"Actually, you do. The director for a local crime lab is a friend of mine. He said you could use their lab if you needed." He sighed. "Gil, you know as well as I do that city-run crime labs are understaffed and overworked. I need someone who can guarantee his full attention to Amy's case."

"Okay." Sara pulled a notebook out of her purse. "Tell me what happened the day Amy disappeared."

"Amy, Veronica, and Spencer got up. It was Amy's turn to drive to school, but Spencer wanted to drive because Amy had gone to the grocery store for me the night before, so she'd already gotten her turn. I told Spencer to quit being a bully and stop whining. It was his turn to drive on Monday. I dropped them off at Highland High School. Sometimes on Fridays Amy sleeps at her friend Tricia Malone's house. Usually she calls, but sometimes she forgets. I figured she'd forgotten. Amy's always yelling at me because she says I treat her like a child. Tells me she's sixteen and nearly grown up. Doesn't want me calling her, embarrassing her." Victor let out a sigh. "When Amy didn't show up Saturday night, I got worried. I called the police. They said that Amy had probably just run off for a few days. They said that Amy had probably just run off for a few days. They told me to wait twenty-four hours then call them back. That's when I called you."

"Do you have Tricia Malone's phone number?" Sara asked.

"No, uh, ask Veronica. She's dating Tricia's older brother. I've tried calling Amy's cell phone, but there's no answer."

"We'll find her." In a rare show of sympathy, Grissom gripped the older man's hand.

"Thank you, Gil." Victor smiled wearily. "Thank you both."

------------------------------

"I'll take Veronica." Sara volunteered.

"I guess that leaves me with Spencer."

"Lucky you." Sara found Veronica's door and knocked on the doorframe. "Veronica?"

"Come in." Veronica was furiously tapping away at her laptop. "Sorry about this. AP Gov essay due tomorrow."

"That's fine." Sara sat on the bed. "I just wanted to talk to you about Amy, maybe get an idea of where to start."

"On second thought, I can use a break." Veronica pushed away from her desk and opened her armoire. "Pop-tart? S'mores, my favorite kind. Dad is a total health nut. I haven't been able to eat Pop-tarts or cheddar-cheese popcorn in front of him since Mom died."

"No, thank you." Sara faced Veronica. "Can you tell me who Amy hung out with? Any boyfriends, that sort of thing."

Veronica sat back down, nibbling on the Pop-tart. "She and Tricia were way tight. She liked this guy, uh…Steve…um…Macklin, I think was his name. They both had Tripp first period for chem, which was where she met him. Amy wasn't a party girl or anything, but once a month Tricia's cousin, Michelle, would have a party. Amy would usually go to that party. Sometimes she'd stay at Tricia's afterwards. As far as other people to talk to, chat with the Science Club. Amy also would've known the people in Drama Club. Tricia's in the DC."

"Veronica, you seem to know a lot about Amy's life. Were you two very close?"

"Amy and I were practically best friends." Veronica took a hearty bite of the Pop-tart. "We did everything together. We worked out together, played foosball together…we don't date a guy if he doesn't pass the sister test."

"Wow." Yeah. Any and Spencer aren't very close. Spencer's been kind of a jerk-off lately. Probably just being a typical teenager. But he did love her, I know he did."

"Thanks." Sara stood. "I'll let you get back to your work."

"Yeah. I gotta tackle Calculus next."

"Ouch. Thanks again."

"Sure."

------------------------------

"So, what've you got?" Sara asked Grissom.

"Talk to Tricia Malone. Party once a month. Amy isn't a social butterfly."

Sara raised her eyebrow. "Well, I got the more detailed version of that from Veronica. There was a kid she had a crush on named Steve Macklin. Gave me his phone number. Maybe they hung out. Veronica said that the once a month party is hosted by Michelle Malone, Tricia's cousin. Gave me Tricia's address. Amy was an introvert. Big time science and math geek."

"So, tomorrow we should talk to Tricia and Steve."

"Yeah." Sara moved onto the balcony of her room. "God, it's so weird being back here at Berkeley. You can see the campus from here."

"It's so pretty at night." Grissom leaned over the railing next to her.

"So, how do you know Victor again?" Sara glanced at Grissom.

"We went to UCLA together. He was the one who asked me to teach the guest spot at Berkeley. I was at Amy's first birthday party. She was adorable. Blonde hair, big blue eyes, and this gigantic smile. She couldn't' stop grinning at me. I thought to myself that if I were ever going to have kids, I would want one exactly like Amy."

Sara glanced at Grissom. "You been drinking?"

"Glass of wine with dinner, same as you."

Sara nodded suspiciously, still stunned that Grissom had revealed something so insanely personal.

"I'm going to go talk to Victor." Grissom pushed away from the railing.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go grab a beer. Night Grissom."

"Night Sara."

------------------------------

"Hey." Victor swirled his scotch in his glass.

"Hi." Grissom stepped into Victor's office.

"You want a glass?" Victor offered him the bottle.  
"Please." Grissom sat in one of the overstuffed chairs opposite Victor. "Victor," he hesitated. "Were you and Amy fighting? Is there a possibility she could have just run away."

"Not Amy. She wouldn't run away." Victor considered his scotch again. "Sara looks so much older than she used to."

Grissom nodded noncommittally. "She's different."

"How long have you two been going out?"

Grissom swallowed hard. "We're not going out!" He sputtered.

"You're not? I could've sworn that the way you two looked at each other…"

"We're just friends." Grissom wasn't sure who he was assuring, Victor or himself.

"Well, if you're not going out with her…I know she's younger, but I can't help but feel this attraction." He sighed. "I feel awful, thinking about women while Amy's missing. But she's just…there's something about her."

Grissom took a drink of his Scotch. "She's special." He agreed.

Victor abruptly switched subjects again. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Tomorrow we're going to talk to Tricia and Michelle Malone."

And for the first time, Grissom saw his old friend break down. "I can't lose her, Gil." Victor sobbed. "Amy was my baby. It seems like just yesterday that I was helping her memorize her times tables and all she wanted to do was hang out with me. Now she's dating and doesn't want me around. Veronica's going to college next year, and Spencer the year after that. Amy's trying to graduate early and go to MIT. My kids are all grown up. I know you don't have kids, Gil, but if you ever do, you'll understand how I feel. I just want them to stay here so I can protect them forever. You have to find her, Gil." He begged. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened."

"I'll find her." Grissom promised.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm absurdly pleased with myself for finally figuring out what the song "Put The Lime In The Coconut" was about. Here's chapter two. I'm working on chapter three and it's almost finished. I just have to be less of a lazy-ass and type it up.

Chapter Two 

"Hi, I'm Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle. We're looking for Tricia Malone." Grissom smiled at the young girl.

"I'm Tricia." She said suspiciously.

"Tricia, we're here to talk to you about Amy Thomason." Sara cut in. "She's gone missing and we're looking for her. If you could just give us a minute of your time, it might really help us to determine where to start looking."

"Amy?" Tricia's eyes welled up. "Come in, please." She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "How can I help?"

"Veronica Thomason said that your cousin, Michelle, has a party at her house once a month or so and sometimes Amy stayed at your place afterwards. Was Amy staying with you that night?"

"We never decide in advance. If Amy had the car, she'd go home. If not, she stayed with me. That night she caught a ride with Steve Macklin, a guy from Chem. Amy was into him. We saw each other briefly, but we never laid any plans. When I didn't see her at the end of the night, I figured she took Steve's car. I was tired, so I went home."

"Tricia, did Amy have anything to drink at the party?"

"Nope. No drugs or drinking for Amy. She's really focused on getting into Yale. She refuses to do anything that might jeopardize her chances."

"What about you? Did you drink anything?"

"I had a beer. Chugged a bottle of water afterwards and waited two hours."

"Can you remember if Steve had anything to drink?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. Straight-edge Steve was guzzling beer like it was Gatorade. Saw Amy take his keys."

_Good for Amy._ Grissom thought with pride. "Do you have Steve's phone number, by any chance?"

"Yeah. His info's in my phone." Tricia snapped open her Motorola Razr. "Okay. Here it is. Steve Macklin, 555-0810."

"Thank you very much." Sara jotted the number down.

"Here, let me give you my number in case you need anything." She scribbled it down beneath Steve's number.

"Thank you, Tricia. You've been a big help." Sara assured the young woman.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Alright. Steve Macklin. Think we got time for one more chat?" Grissom flipped his sunglasses over his eyes.

"Let's go find Steve Macklin."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hi, I'm Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle. We're looking for Steve Macklin."

The older woman eyed them suspiciously. "May I ask why?"

Sara jumped in. "Ma'am, we're friends of Victor Thomason and we're investigating the disappearance of his daughter, Amy. She and your son were friends, so we were hoping we could talk to him, see if we could get an idea of where to start looking."

"Alright, come in." She admitted them. "Steve, there are some people here to speak to you!"

A young blonde boy stuck his head out of his room. "Yes mom?"

"This is Gil Grissom. He'd like to speak to you. It's about some girl you know. Amy Thomason, or something."

Steve appeared in the living room as quickly as he could. "Let's talk outside." He sat on the porch swing while Sara and Grissom occupied the railing across from him. "What do you need?"

"Tell us about Michelle Malone's party." Grissom requested.

"Oh." Steve looked at the ground. "Look, it's a long story, and…"

"We've got time." Sara assured him. "Why don't you start by telling us about your relationship with Amy Thomason."

"I sat next to Amy in Chem. She was two years ahead of her grade in science. About two months ago, Amy asked me out. I said no, because I'm a senior and she's only a sophomore. The guys would ridicule me."

_Two years is an insurmountable age difference to him?_ Grissom thought incredulously. _Try fifteen years!_

"So anyway, I said no. She asked Ms. Tripp if she could switch lab partners. Ms. Tripp said no, the lab partners were assigned permanently."

"So what happened then?" Sara coached.

"Amy stopped speaking to me. At first I thought she was angry. Then I realized she was just hurt and embarrassed. Everybody knows that Veronica is the key to Amy and vice versa. So I went to Veronica for advice. She told me to take Amy out to lunch as friends and talk to her. Veronica said that Amy appreciates honesty. So I asked Amy out to lunch the next day and she said yes. Didn't even look up from her chem book. So we went out and got pizza. I explained my reasons to Amy and she told me that they were stupid.

_They were stupid._ Sara wanted to say.

"I told her that I appreciated the fact that she'd taken the risk of asking me out and that she was sure to find another guy who would be way better for her than I was. She said, 'thanks for the platitude, but please don't be condescending.' I asked her if I had done anything that misled her. She told me that whenever we'd do an experiment in chem, I'd always grab her elbow to show her something or I'd sit way too close. She said it was little things like that that added up.

_Well, at least he was nice about breaking her heart._ Sara directed the tiniest of glares at Grissom.

"Then I realized that I had done all those things and I wasn't misleading her, because I really wanted to say yes. So I explained that to her and asked her out. She said yes. We'd gone out a few times, low-key, nothing to write home about, but the party was our first appearance together. I managed to get completely trashed and while Amy and I were making out she grabbed my keys. She took me home and stayed overnight because it was too late for her to be out driving. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. I figured Veronica came and got her."

"You don't know where she might've gone?" Sara asked.

"I really don't know." Steve apologized. "I wish I could help you."

"Thank you." Grissom stood and followed Sara to the car.

"Well, people don't just disappear." Sara sighed, slipping inside the Mercedes that Victor had loaned them.

"I know." Grissom pulled the car out of the parking spot in front of the house. "There's no such thing as without a trace."

"But where do we look? The last person to see Amy says she just left." She sighed. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not for the first time, Catherine Willows looked at her daughter and sighed. Lindsey was fourteen, nearing fifteen. She was a freshman in high school, for God's sake. In another two months, she'd be able to get her driver's permit.

Catherine thought about work. She'd long since accepted that work took her away from Lindsey more than she would've ideally liked, but Hell would freeze over twice before Catherine accepted that she was half Braun and would never have to work another day in her life if she just accepted Sam and the strings that came with his money.

Catherine's home phone jangled. "I got it!" Lindsey shouted, snatching up the portable phone. "Hello? One sec." She turned to Catherine. "It's for you."

"Hello?" Catherine answered.

"Ms. Willows? Hi my name is Dr. Tara Evans, and I'm a doctor here at Desert Palms. Sam Braun has just been admitted and you're listed as his next of kin. I'm going to need you to come down to the hospital and fill out a few forms."

"Oh my God! Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can. Uh, thank you." Catherine hung up the phone. "Lindsey, how soon can you be ready to go?"

"I'm just getting breakfast."

"No time. We'll get it later."

"What's going on?"

"I'll explain it in the car. Come on, let's go."

Lindsey hopped in the passenger seat of Catherine's Denali. "Okay. What's going on, mom?"

"Sam Braun is in the hospital and I'm listed as the next of kind. I need to go to the hospital and fill out forms. So please don't skip today, okay Lindsey? Just go to school and be a good girl."

"I don't want to go to school."

"Lindsey, please just do this for me. Here's a ten. Go to Starbucks and grab breakfast, okay?"

Lindsey stared at her mother. "This is really important to you, isn't it? Alright. No problems from me today."

"Thank you." Catherine revved the engine and sped all the way to Desert Palms. She rushed into the main waiting room. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Dr. Tara Evans." She told the receptionist.

"One second." The receptionist paged Dr. Evans.

Soon a blonde woman exited one of the ICU suites. "Ms. Willows? I'm Tara Evans, the doctor on your father's case. I'm afraid he suffered several heart attacks. He passed away about ten minutes ago."

Catherine clutched her purse. "He died?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh my God." Catherine sank down into one of the waiting room chairs.

"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Braun requested that you speak with a Mr. David Wiltman in the event of his death. His lawyer, I presume."

"May I see him?" Catherine requested?

"Ms. Willows…"

"May I see him?"

"Yes." Dr. Evans led her into Sam's suite.

Finally Catherine could believe it. Sam was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sara, can I offer you a scotch?" Victor held out the bottle.

"No thank you, I'm not a fan of scotch."

"A glass of wine, then?"

Sara hesitated. _Oh what the Hell. It's just one glass of wine._ "Sure."

"You know, I don't think I've properly thanked you for trying to find Amy."

"Of course. I can't imagine not trying to help."

"Sara, all those years ago, when you were a student at Berkeley, Gil couldn't stop raving about his brightest student. At first, I thought he was an idiot because he was going to enter a relationship with a student. But when he didn't, to protect you more than himself, I realized that there must be something special about you. So I wanted to meet you, but I never got the chance. Now that I've met you, I realize why Gil was so enamored with you. I was hoping you might go to dinner with me tomorrow night."

Sara swallowed her wine. "Oh, um, yes, I guess."

"Great. I'll call and make reservations."

_Yeah. Great._

A/N: There's nothing like writing the Cath scenes the The Imperial March (for all you freaks that haven't seen any of the Star Wars, that's Vader's Theme. And I don't think you're actually freaks. I just…oh forget it.) Thanks for reading! Review. Review. Review. Review. (Think I should put in one more 'review?')


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm going, I'm going! I'm really trying to get more of this story out! And I'm probably going to go back to Like Cinderella in a few days. I think I'm coming out of my bad-writing spell.

**Chapter Three**

Jim Brass didn't consider himself a wise man. But, he was wise enough to know that when love presents itself to someone on a silver platter, only a fool would turn it away.

Which made Gil Grissom, a first class, grade-A, verified fool.

Sara Sidle was a catch. No other woman could keep up with Grissom quite like Sara could. Brass poured himself a glass of scotch. _I sure hope Gil pulls his head out of his ass soon. Sara won't wait around forever._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Thank you for dinner." Sara took a sip of her wine. "It was really nice."

"I'm glad you thought so." Victor signed the check. "I'm sorry for being such a terrible date tonight. I promise I'm not usually this bad."

"It's perfectly okay. Your daughter is missing. I understand."

"I feel like a horrible parent too. My daughter is out there somewhere and I can't do anything."

"You have done something. You called Grissom and me and we're doing everything we know how to do to find her."

"I know." Victor accepted his credit card from the waiter. "I'd like to try this again tomorrow."

"That sounds fine." Sara smiled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grissom paced the length of his room. _It's already 11:30. Where is she?_ Grissom fumed.

He heard the door next to his room open and close. He stormed through their connecting door. "Where the Hell were you?" Grissom snapped.

Sara shrieked and clutched a shirt to her chest. "Jesus Christ, Grissom! I'm _changing_."

"Where were you?" Grissom barked again.

"Out. With Victor." She shot back.

"What were you doing out with Victor?"

Sara squinted at him as though she were trying to figure out where he'd obtained the crack he was so clearly smoking. "You know damn well what I was doing. I was out on a date. To see if there was connection between the two of us. And you know what? It was a nice evening. We're going out tomorrow." Sara tugged the nightshirt over her head. "Victor knows what he wants and he can tell me. You have no right to get upset with me for trying to move on!"

"Sara –"

"No. Get out. I don't want to talk to you right now, Grissom."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ms. Willows, it's nice to finally meet you." Mr. Wiltman pumped her hand. "Your father spoke fondly of you. I'm David Wiltman, head of your father's team of lawyers. Please, call me David."

"David," Catherine began. "Sam requested that I see you in the event of his death."

"Of course. I'm the executor of his estate. I have a copy of his will in the safe deposit box in my office. Follow me."

Catherine sat in an overstuffed leather chair.

"About six months ago, your father came to me, wanting to make some serious changes to his will. With Tony dead and Walt in jail, you're the sole heir of Sam's estate. Almost everything goes to you. All of his property, his money, it's yours, Ms. Willows. Except for two million dollars, which is to be placed in a trust fund under the name Lindsey Willows and is to be inaccessible until Lindsey is twenty-one, on the condition that she goes to college. He also purchased a horse for her, but hadn't been able to give it to her. He requests that you pass the horse on to her. So if you could just sign a few documents for me, you'll be a wealthy woman."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Catherine nearly couldn't believe it. Overnight, she'd become a millionaire, if not a billionaire. While she sat at the break room table at CSI, eating her dinner, David Wiltman was transferring Pike's Gambling Hall, The Rampart, Whiskey Town, and Sam's other casinos into her name. Tomorrow he'd transfer the deed on Sam's palatial 10-acre compound. Lindsey would have a car. Sam left Lindsey his BMW. Catherine got the Alfa Romeo, the Audi TT, and the limo. With the chauffeur.

Catherine had a fucking chauffeur.

Catherine flopped on the break room couch and checked the time. Only midnight. Warrick would probably still be awake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sara?" Veronica tapped on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I thought of something. Steve's dad and mom got divorced last year. I saw his car in the driveway when I was driving home from swimming. Maybe it was nothing, but the divorce was pretty bitter. I can't think of a reason why he would be there."

"I'm sorry, but I don't really understand the significance…"

"Mr. and Mrs. Macklin divorced because Mr. Macklin was arrested. For statutory rape. I've seen him. He has a bad temper and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he…escalated. I know it sounds stupid and probably means nothing, but the Macklins' house is the last place we know Amy was, and –"

"That's a good idea, Veronica. I'll let Grissom know and we'll check it out." Sara grabbed a pad of paper. "What was his name?"

"Dave Macklin."

"Okay. I'll make sure we check into it. Thank you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We've got a suspect." Sara informed Grissom coolly.

"Who?"

"Dave Macklin. Veronica said it might be nothing, but she got a funny feeling about it."

"About what?"

"Dave Macklin."

"Okay, I guess it's worth a shot." Grissom conceded.

"Sara –" Grissom grabbed her elbow.

"Yeah?" Sara didn't turn around.

"Look, I um…" He sighed. "Never mind."

Sara smiled sadly. "Yeah. That's usually how it is."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Warrick knew he could seduce any woman in the bar where he was currently sipping on a beer. Warrick preferred wine to beer, but found it impossible to find a bar with a good wine list.

"You alone?" A statuesque blonde sat on the barstool next to him.

"I was." He responded, flashing her a smile that turned almost every woman he'd met weak in the knees.

"I'm Kelline." She introduced herself. "But I go by Kelli. Nobody except me grandmother calls me Kelline." Her musical laugh cut into Warrick's thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present. "So you've got my name, but I'm sadly ignorant of what your name is."

"Warrick." Another flash of his pearly whites.

"You don't look like you're enjoying your beer." Kelli motioned to the still nearly-full bottle.

"And why do you say that?" Kelli had captured his interest.

"Bottle is still nearly full, placed far enough away that you would have to lean to get it, and…" She tapped a finger against the side of the bottle. "Still warm. You, Warrick, are not a beer man. At least not today. Not mixed drinks either. Too…foofy for you. So you must like wine. Red, I bet. Richer, darker, heavier."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know all of that?"

"I'm a private detective." She shrugged.

Warrick grinned. "I'm feeling hungry. You wanna get dinner?"

Kelli looked shyly into her martini. "You know what I have a serious craving for?"

Warrick prayed it wasn't something totally healthful like soy ice cream or baked seaweed chips.

"Pizza." Kelli finished off her martini. "Greasy, fattening, everything-on-it-but-the-kitchen-sink pizza."

_My kind of woman!_ Warrick silently cheered.

"I know this is going to sound kind of forward, but would you like to come back to my place? We can order in and not deal with a crowded restaurant."

Warrick shrugged. _Why not_? "I'm in."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, Kelli, why were you at The Highball tonight? Kind of a dive, especially for a woman like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

"I was at The Highball because my friend, Jennifer, was man-hunting. Just came out of a nasty divorce. Well, nasty for Rob. Anyway, Jen needed support. For about five minutes."

"Kelli, I gotta be honest with you, I'm not looking for any sort of relationship right now."

Kelli laughed. "Good, 'cause all I'm offering is friendship. I haven't had guy friend since I was seventeen and I kind of miss 'em."

Warrick blushed. "Oh. I didn't mean to be so arrogant."

"It's perfectly okay." Kelli polished off her slice of pizza. "So, why were you at The Highball if you weren't looking for a relationship?"

"I was looking for a drink." Warrick finished off his wine and glanced at his watch. "Jesus, it's three in the morning. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"I work graveyard." Kelli shrugged.

Warrick groaned. "Why couldn't I be looking for a relationship? You're perfect."

"Thank you." Kelli grinned. "But don't _you _have work tomorrow?"

"I work the nightshift." He parroted. "Tonight's my night off." He put on his coat. "Oh, let me give you my number so you can call me."

"Oh, me too." Kelli scribbled down her phone number.

Warrick glanced at the piece of paper. "Alright, Kelli…_Grissom?_" He looked up, shock written all over his face. "What's your dad's name?"

"Jack." Kelli looked more and more confused. "Why?"

"My boss…his name is Gil Grissom. Maybe you're related to him. After all, Grissom isn't exactly a common name."

"My mother said I had a brother by dad's first wife." Kelli said slowly. "Maybe he's that brother."

"Maybe. It was so nice to meet you, Kelli. I'll call you by Wednesday, and if I don't , feel free to hunt me down and kill me."

"Don't think I won't hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it." Warrick lingered by the door. "So, I'll call and we'll do breakfast?"

"I'm counting on it."

A/N: So, does Kelli stay or does Kelli go? If she stays, she's either going to get with Nick or Warrick. Your vote! REVIEW. REVIEW. Come on, I got two chapters out in one day for you. You can review.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I've got some new ideas for Like Cinderella, so hopefully I'll be able to update that one soon. But in the meantime, here's chapter four.

Chapter Four 

"Let me go!" Amy Thomason screamed at her captor. "I'm not the one you want! My name is Amy Thomason!"

"Shut up, Margaret!" The man slapped her hard across the face and Amy recoiled. "I don't want to hear any more of your lies. You're always lying to me!"

"I swear, I'm not Margaret." Amy cried. "Look at my license! Amy Elizabeth Thomason."

He snatched her wallet and glanced at the ID. "You're fucking lying. It's a fake ID."

"No it's not." Amy sniffled. "What do you want?"

"I want my daughter back. I want Margaret." He snarled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh my God." Veronica slit open the letter. "Stanford! I got into Stanford!" She screamed.

Then she noticed the other letter on the mail table. It was certainly odd. There was no return address on it and the address was typed. "Weird."

"Hey, did I get any mail?" Victor plugged his cell phone onto the charger.

"Yeah. Credit card bill, car insurance bill, phone bill, slightly weird letter…"

"Thanks." Victor slit open the envelope and tugged out the letter inside. "Oh my God. Veronica, get Gil or Sara."

"They aren't here."

"Call them. Phone number's in my phone." He remarked absently.

Veronica dialed Sara's phone number. "Sara? Hey it's Veronica. Dad got a ransom note. Ten minutes? Okay, see you then."

"Call Dan. We need to use his lab. Third number down."

Veronica found the number and called Dan. "Dan? Hey, it's Veronica Thomason. My dad was wondering if we could use the lab. We got a ransom note. Okay, see you then." She snapped the phone shut. "I'll get Spencer."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What've you got?" Grissom was all business.

"Envelope. Possible source of DNA." Victor handed him the envelope.

Like a true professional, Grissom snapped on a pair of gloves and examined the envelope. "It's possible whoever sent this used water or glue, but I'll check it out. What's the name of the guy who's lab I'm using?"

"Dan Fitzgerald."

"Good, good. Where's his lab?"

"49th and Benson." Victor replied tonelessly. Was this it? Were they about to find his baby girl?"

"Let's go." Grissom led Sara back out to the car.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe it. Fool licked the envelope." Sara shook her head.

"Well, I've got it narrowed down to XY." Felicity Collins, the DNA tech at Fitzgerald's lab handed her a printout. "But that's not going to help you much. I need a comparison sample."

"Got that." Grissom bustled in. "I swung by Steve's house and got a DNA sample. He's the son of the suspect, so if we match seven out of thirteen markers at least, we can take that to the police station as a probable match of the kidnapper being in Steve's immediate family."

Sara almost said 'brilliant' but refrained on the grounds that she and Grissom were still fighting.

"I'll call you once it's been run and I find something out." Felicity told them.

"Thanks." Grissom turned to Sara. "Name the three most important things in real estate and business."

"Location, location, location?"  
"Let's go figure out where Dave Macklin is."

"I hate to suggest the obvious, but shouldn't we check the phonebook? Guy was moronic enough to lick the envelope, maybe he's using his home address too."

"I guess." Grissom shrugged, grabbing a phonebook. "M…well, he is in the phonebook. Let's just hope he was stupid enough to go to his house. Come on."

They raced to Dave Macklin's house and knocked on the door.

"Hello?" The man who answered the door was blonde, like Steve, but heavier set.

"Are you Dave Macklin?" Sara stepped forward.

"Yeah." Dave eyed her suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"We just moved to the neighborhood, and my wife and I were hoping to meet some people on the block. We were told we had to meet you." Grissom cut in smoothly, firmly ignoring Sara's look of shock.

"Who told you that?" Dave's eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Smith, was it honey?" Sara glanced at Grissom.

"Figures." Macklin snorted. "That bitch wants me to be the fucking welcome wagon. Look, I'm not a block party kind of guy." He snapped, slamming the door in their faces.

"Well he was pleasant." Grissom grimaced.

"Yeah." Sara shrugged his arm off. "What the Hell was that married bit, by the way?"

"You wanted to tell him we suspect that he kidnapped somebody's kid? He didn't look too happy with us as it was." Grissom returned shortly.

"Whatever." Sara rolled her eyes.

"At least he's still in California."

"Yeah. If Felicity can get a match, we've got a warrant and hopefully we'll find Amy." Her cell phone buzzed. "Hang on, that's Felicity." Sara snapped open the phone. "Hey. Yeah? Alright. Five minutes if we speed." She closed the phone. "Come on. Felicity's got something."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kelli Grissom knew that when a man said he'd call by a certain day, a girl should always add a week.

So she was rather surprised when Warrick called Tuesday afternoon.

"Hey." She put a cinnamon roll on a plate and put it in the microwave. "You called. Before your deadline. Alert the media, there is actually a man on this earth who calls when he says he will." She teased.

"You're just being snippy." Warrick shot back.

"So. Breakfast?"

"Yeah. My bud Nick and I are goin' for pancakes after work tonight. I know it's short notice, but you want in?"

Kelli laughed and wiped her hands on a towel. "Is this a setup?"

"It's not a setup."

"It's a setup." Kelli chuckled.

"Is – It's not a setup."

"In spite of your day-before invitation, and the fact that this is totally a setup, I'm in."

"It's not a setup." Warrick insisted.

"It's a setup." She assured him, hanging up the phone, grin plastered on her face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Morning." Catherine handed Lindsey a plate of eggs and French toast. "We need to talk."

"I swear to God I didn't skip yesterday." Lindsey held up her hands in surrender."

"I know. We still need to talk, though."

"I'm not in trouble?" Lindsey narrowed her eyes.

"Did you do something that I should be mad about?" Catherine raised an eyebrow.

"No." Lindsey plopped down in a chair. "So, what's up?"

Catherine licked her lips. "Sam didn't pull through, baby, so I went to his lawyer and as it turns out, Sam's other two sons weren't included in the will, which means you and I got everything. So, I've decided that when you get out of school for the summer, we're taking a trip. Anywhere you like. Just the two of us and we're going to start getting along better. I know your dad's death was tough on you, Linds, but please don't deal with it by going down the same road I did. It's not a happy life. It's not glamorous and it's not as fun as it looks."

"I know that." Lindsey rolled her eyes. "I'm fourteen, not stupid. I don't do drugs and I don't drink. I've never had sex and I'm not a bad kid."

"I know you're not a bad kid, Linds. But you have to understand, Fremont Street is not safe, and I panicked when you were going to see Sam. Sam and I didn't get along, and he's a bad influence on you, sweetie."

"He's my grandfather, isn't he?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine's jaw dropped. "How did you know he was your grandfather?"

"I overheard you talking to Warrick." She shrugged. "So I went to go ask him about it. I haven't been back since. I promise."

"There's still the issue of you skipping school. I've gotten the calls from your teachers."

"You know why I skip?" Lindsey leaned forward.

"Why?" Catherine folded her arms.

"Because I feel stupid. I'm in regular math. All the rest of my friends are in advanced. I can't pass science to save my life and my mother's a _scientist._ Do you have any idea how much people make fun of me for the fact that you were a stripper? It's humiliating. So I skip. It's not like grades are the be-all end-all of life. You didn't get good grades and you've got a decent life."

"Now. I used to be living paycheck to paycheck stripping. It's taken me a while to get where I got, Lindsey."

"Bill Gates dropped out of school. He's a friggin' billionaire."

"Bill Gates got into Harvard. It's not like he dropped out of community college."

"Warrick didn't go to a fancy school."

"UNLV is a perfectly respectable school." Catherine argued.

"Then I'll go there." Lindsey returned. "School's just not my thing. I'll find another way to be successful. Not stripping."

"Alright. I'll make you a deal. You don't skip more than twice a year and only, _only _if you are feeling like your head is about to explode from the stress and I will let you keep the car Sam left you."

"He left me a _car_?"

"BMW. But you only get it if you _promise_ to stop skipping. I want the best for you, Lindsey, and as sucky as school is, you need to at least pass so you can get into UNLV and be the success you're so sure you're going to be."

Lindsey considered it. Finally the BMW won out. "Alright. Deal."

"So, where do you want to go on our vacation?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hit me." Sara called to Felicity.

"Got a half-match. Steve's sample matched the DNA on the envelope for seven out of thirteen markers."

"Sweet. I'll call the police." Sara grabbed her cell phone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is the police!" Shouted a stocky cop named Jacobs who reminded Sara distinctly of Brass. "Come out with your hands in the air!"

The front door opened and out stepped a very drunk, very pissed off Dave Macklin.

"David Macklin, you're under arrest for the kidnapping of Amy Thomason." A rookie snapped on the cuffs and led Dave to the cop car.

Jacobs busted into the house, Grissom and Sara following not far behind.

"I hear shouting!" Grissom called, pointing to a locked door.

Jacobs kicked the door open to reveal Amy Thomason, strapped to a chair, tears streaming down her face.

"Amy!" Grissom rushed forward. He moved to untie the rope holding Amy back, but Sara grabbed his arm.

"What the Hell?" He growled, trying to shake Sara off.

"Evidence." She explained quietly, holding out a pair of latex gloves. "Rope. Epithelial city."

Silently, Grissom snapped on the gloves and sliced the bonds. "Amy, you're safe now." He soothed the crying girl. "We're going to take you home and spoil you rotten."

Amy threw her arms around Grissom. "Take me home." She whispered tearfully.

A/N: So, I'm going to a luau tomorrow through Sunday evening, but I'll try to get a chapter posted by Sunday or Monday and I think I can have another chapter of Like Cinderella done by Monday or Tuesday. Have a great weekend!


	6. Chapter 6

Duh! Thanks to the amazing djkittycat for oh-so-kindly pointing out my absolutely wonderfully glaring mistake of having Grissom's mother call Sara. Yeah. She's not deaf at all. So I've re-written and changed it so that the woman calling Sara is Grissom's cousin. Hope that clears things up.

A/N: Totally off-topic, but should I name my gorgeous new (well, 2002, but close enough) red VW Jetta "Greggo" "Fabrizio" or "Hans"? Bear in mind, my crazy friends came up with these names. Except Greggo. That was all me and the fact that in 'Early Rollout' Greg drives a Jetta, which is just so awesome.

Anyway, I know it's been a million years (which is actually roundabout 2 months…but same diff!) and I feel really awful, so I tried to make this chapter extra good, but it turned out extra crappy. But who knows? Let's just post it and see what happens!

PS: I know it's not realistic for Amy to be as normal as she is in this chapter, but since I really don't know how one would react after being kidnapped…let's just go with she's in denial.

Chapter Five 

Sara took a long look at the girl she'd just spend the past week trying to find. Amy Thomason had shoulder length blonde hair, which appeared almost brown from the dirt mixed into it. Her open and round face was red with tears, but lightly dusted with freckles. Amy's already large blue-gray eyes were magnified by the fat tears spilling over her cheeks.

Grissom seemed to be half combing Amy for evidence and half trying to prevent himself from clutching her in a bear hug.

"Amy, I need you to let me get under your fingernails." Grissom said soothingly, trying to unfurl Amy's hands. "He has fresh scratches on his face. Did you scratch him, Amy?"

She nodded, still trying to clutch at Grissom.

"Good girl." He murmured. "That was very good, Amy. I'm very proud of you." He carefully scraped any trace from underneath her heavily chipped French manicured nails. "Amy, I need you to change into this jumpsuit, okay? There's a little screen over there. Sara will make sure nobody sees you, okay?"

Amy reluctantly unclasped her arms from around Grissom's neck and followed Sara to the screen.

"Sara," Grissom touched her arm. "I need a jumpsuit. I might have trace transfer on my clothes."

Wordlessly, Sara handed him a large-sized jumpsuit and followed Amy to the screen.

----------------------

"Amy!" Veronica cried, clattering down the stairs. "You're home."

"Veronica!" Completely disregarding her disheveled appearance, Amy threw herself into Veronica's arms.

The two girls dissolved into tears and hugged each other desperately. Victor heard the commotion and came into the front hall. Upon seeing Amy and Veronica, Victor added himself to the hug.

Spencer tried to remain aloof, but he too eventually pulled Amy into a hug.

"Gil, Sara, I can't thank you enough for finding Amy." Victor pumped Grissom's hand and hugged Sara tightly. "Please, stay for another few days."

"We-" Grissom started.

"Would love to."

----------------------

Sara padded down the hall back to her room, stopping when she heard the low hum of hushed conversation.

"Amy, are you…did he hurt you?"

"Ronnie, I'm tired. I just want to go to sleep." Amy begged.

"Okay." Veronica whispered. "Good night, Ames."

Sara heard nothing for a second and then the creak of bedsprings as one of the girls rose.

"Oh, Sara." Veronica jumped slightly. "I didn't realize you were out here."

"Sorry I startled you."

"It's okay." Veronica glanced at the floor and then opened her mouth. "Sara, uh…"

"Yeah?" Sara encouraged.

"Be careful with Uncle Gil, okay?"

Sara's jaw nearly dropped. "Be careful with Uncle Gil?" She repeated incredulously.

"He's been in love with you for a long time and he's scared of getting burned."

Sara's jaw continued to hang open.

"Since he met you at Berkeley." She insisted. "He's a good guy. I know there's an age difference between the two of you, but give him a chance."

Sara groaned. "Veronica, let's go to the kitchen and get something to drink." She suggested. "And I'll explain the missing facts."

"Okay." Veronica shrugged and followed Sara to the kitchen. "So explain."

"I asked Grissom out and he turned me down. Flat." Sara stuck tow mugs of water in the microwave. "So I gave him a chance. That's what happened."

"Oh." Veronica tore open two packets of apple cider powder and poured them into the mugs. "Dad never said. I just assumed…I had no idea."

"I know." Sara replied, not unkindly.

The two women were silent for a moment before Veronica spoke up quietly. "I miss him."

"Grissom?"

"Yeah." Veronica sipped at her cider. "I miss him. He used to always be around. He took Amy and me to our first baseball game. And when Mom died and Dad broke down, he stayed out here and took me to ballet and Amy to preschool and helped Spencer perfect his curveball." Veronica paused and took a breath.

"When Mom died, I asked Uncle Gil whether he was ever going to get married. He told me that maybe someday, if he could find the right woman. One day, he picked me up at school and took me out for ice cream. He looked happier than I'd ever seen him. And he told me he'd met the right woman, and that maybe someday, he'd bring home an Auntie for me to meet. Then, three months later, he was moving back to Vegas and the spark in his eye was gone. He hasn't come back. The one time I saw him on TV, his face was so drawn and his eyes were so sad that I barely recognized him. I saw you too, standing right behind him. I wanted to blame you for killing him. But seeing you now…you didn't kill him, did you?"

Sara didn't reply.

"He killed himself."

Sara couldn't think of anything to say to that, so Veronica just nodded and dumped out the contents of her mug.

----------------------

Sara traipsed into the kitchen and began rummaging for some fruit. As she wandered from the kitchen to the rec room, Sara heard Amy's voice.

"Hey, Steve, I don't blame you." Amy said gently.

"I should have known." Steven insisted.

"You _couldn't_ have known."

Sara frowned but took her apple back to her room. "Oh my God!" Sara jumped, realizing that Grissom was sitting on her bed. "Grissom."

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving tomorrow morning. You have plenty of vacation time left if you want to stay."

"Nah, you're right. I should probably get back to Vegas too." Sara took a bite of her apple.

"I'm not…" Grissom blushed. "I'm not going back to Vegas just yet."

"Oh." Sara tried to resist prying. She could see the conflicting sides of his emotions warring on Grissom's face. Grissom's private self won out and he said nothing. "Anything else?"

"Uh, no." Grissom stood. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Okay."

----------------------

The symbolism wasn't lost on Sara. Victor sat to her left and Grissom to her right, the two men facing off on opposite sides of the table. Spencer was off at a baseball game and Veronica was on a date. Amy sat across from Sara.

Sara ate her pasta and glanced from Victor to Grissom and back. Victor seemed oblivious to Grissom's death glare and Amy was just enjoying being safely at home, though she jumped every time a car drove by or the house creaked.

Grissom speared the last bite of his steak and shoved it into his mouth. "Victor, thank you for your hospitality, but I have to leave tomorrow." Grissom said after finishing his steak.

"Are you going home?" Victor asked.

"Sort of." Grissom shifted uncomfortably. "I'm visiting Emily."

_Who's Emily?_ Sara hated the flood of jealousy that rushed through her. _How come she was worth it?_

"I'm going back to Vegas." Sara announced. "Thank you for putting us up, Victor. Amy, I'm so sorry this happened to you."

Amy nodded. "Daddy, may I please be excused?"

"Sure Amy."

Victor glanced from Grissom to Sara. "Both of you are welcome to come back any time."

Sara tried not to snort derisively. "I should go pack."

----------------------

"You ready to go?" Grissom had rented a loaner car for his trip and had offered to drive Sara to the airport.

"Yeah. Thanks for giving me a ride." Sara shouldered her carry-on bag. "I'll see you in a week?"

"Yeah. A week." Grissom took a breath, as if he were trying to work up the courage to say something. "I…if you and Victor want to date, you should."

_Fuck it._ Sara snapped. "Damn it, Grissom. I don't get you. You tell me to get a life, I do, and you get pissed off at me!"

"His daughter was missing, Sara!"

"I'm not just talking about Victor." Sara retorted. "Are you deliberately this obtuse or are you actually inhuman?"

"I'm human, Sara."

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it."

"What do you want from me?" Grissom threw his hands up.

"Emotions. I want my friend back." Sara was frustrated.

"He's gone." Grissom shot back coldly. "Every time I open up to you, I get hurt. Hank? Do you know how hard that was?"

"When the Hell have you ever opened up to me?" Sara folded her arms.

"After the case with the girl who's father sexually abused her four years ago."

"That was well before Hank. And you call that opening up? You sent me a plant with the words 'from Grissom' on it. How is that opening up?"

"It was, for me. And then you practically slap me in the face by not even mentioning it."

Sara's face blanched. "You. Jerk." She whispered. "I don't believe you. You are absolutely unbelievable."

"What?"

"I put myself on the line, asking you out and you turned me down flat, now you have the nerve to tell me I hurt you? You think I didn't get hurt?"

"It was just a crush." Grissom waved the statement away crossly. "We'd both have gotten hurt."

Sara hitched her carry-on over her shoulder. "I'm going to miss my flight. I'll see you in a week."

----------------------

Sara hadn't moved from the entryway to her apartment. How could Grissom say that _he _would get hurt? And then the tears came.

Sara hated crying, but there she was, crying like a baby. She hated fighting with Grissom. It made her stomach tighten and her heart burn.

Her tearful breakdown was interrupted by her cell phone's insistent ringing. "Hello?" Sara tried to sound calm and normal.

"Are you Sara Sidle?" A female voice demanded.

"Yes." Sara narrowed her eyes. "Who is this?"

"Gil is in the hospital. You're listed as his emergency work contact. He's seriously injured. Marina Del Rey General Hospital."

"Who is this?" Sara repeated.

"I'm Claire Dawson, his cousin

"Sara, are you still there? He need to see the people he loves."

"I can't come, Ms. Dawson." Sara finally shut her apartment door.

"If you're the same workaholic Sara Gil always talks about, you have plenty of vacation time saved up."

"I can't come, Ms. Dawson. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

"He needs you Sara." Claire pressed.

The tears started again. All Sara wanted to do was rush to Grissom's side, but he probably didn't want her there and it would only cause more problems. "Ms. Dawson, your cousin and I aren't really on speaking terms right now."

"All the more reason for you to come." Claire pushed.

That sparked Sara's interest. "What's going on, Ms.Dawson? Why is this so important?"

"Gil's been in a terrible car accident."

Sara nearly dropped her phone.

"He's dying."

----------------------

A/N: What, dying? I guess you'll just have to hang on the edge of your seats until I can get another chapter up. Mwahaha, my evil plan is complete. I hope y'all liked Veronica getting all backstoryish on Sara. Veronica is my personal favorite character right now. Anyway, good night.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I would like to thanks **Maggs**, because without her, this chapter never, ever, ever would have seen the light of day.

Chapter Six 

Sara said the first thing that came to mind. "You can't be serious."

Claire sounded offended. "I'm completely serious. Gil was bleeding internally and his temperature is rapidly spiking. The doctors say he hasn't been taking care of himself. It's…the doctors aren't quite sure what's wrong with him. If he doesn't make it…"

"Oh God." Sara moaned. "Oh God. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Good." Claire sounded satisfied. "Thank you, Sara. I'm sure he'll want to see you."

"I'll be there soon."

-----------------------------------

Sara grabbed her cell phone and rapidly dialed Catherine's number. "Cath, I'm not coming to work for a couple of days."

"Sara, is everything okay?"

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, Sara burst into tears. "No. Grissom was in a car crash. It's not looking good."

"Oh Jesus." Catherine breathed. "Take however much time you need. I'll get it cleared. Call and tell us how he's doing, okay?"

"Yeah." Sara swallowed. "Cath –"

"I know, Sara." Catherine said gently. "He means a lot to all of us too."

"If he dies –"

"He won't." Catherine interrupted firmly. "Grissom's too stubborn to let a little thing like this get him. He'll be fine."

"He might not be." Sara retorted, biting her lip. "I'm sorry Cath. I'll call when I know something more."

-----------------------------------

Sara parked the Denali and forced air through her lungs. "He'll be fine." She repeated over and over, forbidding herself from thinking any negative thoughts. "He'll be fine."

Sara found her way to the ICU and strode up to the nurse's station. "I'm looking for Gil Grissom."

"Are you family?" The nurse asked.

"His niece." She lied.

"Room 1235." The nurse barely looked up.

"Which floor?" Sara asked.

"Twelve." The nurse snapped her gum.

"Thanks." Sara found the elevators and stepped inside. She frantically jabbed at the number twelve. It seemed to take hours for the elevator to reach the 12th floor, but in reality it was only seconds. Sara tore out of the elevator and down the hall until she found room 1235.

"Grissom." He didn't look battered or beaten or near death. "Are you okay? What happened? Do they know what's going on?"

"Sara." Grissom held up a hand. "I'm fine."

"But your cousin –"

"I don't have a cousin."

Sara's hand's flew to her hips. "But I got a call, and she said –"

"Sara, please hear me out."

Sara didn't like the phrases "we need to talk" and "hear me out." Those phrases invariably led to long, stiff, mind-numbing conversations about "what was happening."

"I'm listening."

"I feel bad about the way we left things. I, uh…I" He blushed. "I don't like fighting with you. So I was going to call you as soon as I got to my mother's house."

Sara nodded.

"As I was getting off the freeway, this drunk driver was speeding the wrong way down the off-ramp. There was nothing I could do. He hit me head on. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt."

"He died?" Sara asked softly.

"On impact."

"Oh. So are you really okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Then –"

"When I was waiting for the paramedics it occurred to me that the last time I ever saw you might be after you as good as told me to go to Hell. I couldn't let it end like that. So, Sara, I would like you to meet Claire Dawson."

Sara had envisioned a woman in he late thirties, but Claire Dawson couldn't have been a day over eighteen.

"Are you two second cousins?" Sara glanced from Grissom to Claire.

"Nope."

Sara noticed Claire's pink and white striped dress and hospital volunteer badge. "You volunteer at the hospital?"

"Claire volunteers here on Thursdays and Fridays." Grissom explained. "Claire and I aren't related."

Sara was thoroughly confused. "But you said she wasn't your cousin."

"It was just so romantic and…" Claire piped up, sighing dreamily.

"Sara." Grissom almost looked mildly amused. "Claire was just helping me get you here."

Comprehension. "You lied to me?" She yelled, half pissed and half very confused. "You _lied _to me?"

"Sara, you have to understand –"

"Oh, I understand alright. I understand that you're a real jerk!"

"Good morning!" A cheery doctor whose nametag read Trisha Flint practically beamed. "I hope you're feeling better, Dr. Grissom."

"I am."

"I have to, uh, go." Claire excused herself.

"I think she's got a little crush on you, Dr. G." Dr. Flint winked.

Grissom blushed and Sara's complexion grew redder by the second. "So Dr. Flint, how am I doing?"

"Well, you're doing great, except for that pesky broken arm." She smiled. "The breaks were clean and we set the arm while you were out."

For the first time, Sara noticed Grissom's cast. _Black. How appropriate. Nobody can leave their mark._

"And we can release you today. However, no driving until you're fully healed. And since you're still doped up on Vicodin, I'm afraid I have to release you into somebody's custody. Good thing your niece is here. Are you Claire? So funny that your name is the same as hers." Dr. Flint referred to Claire Dawson.

"Hilarious." Sara gritted, not bothering to correct the doctor.

"Well, I'll be back in a few minutes with your discharge papers, Dr. Grissom. Nice to meet you Claire."

As soon as Dr. Flint left, Sara exploded. "No. Uh-uh. She is not releasing you into my care."

"Well my mother can't drive. So if you could just drop me at her house…it's a thirty minute drive and it's on the way back to Vegas."

"You _lied_ to me!" Sara jumped back to her earlier refrain.

"Sara, stop being childish." Grissom snapped.

"Oh, now I'm _childish_." Sara's face was changing from red to purple.

"No, Sara –"

"Fine. I'll take you to your mother's. After that, don't ever speak to me again. Understood?"

Grissom nodded shamefully.

"Good. I'll be waiting out front."

-----------------------------------

She really, really didn't want to have to ask. But she really, really had to pee.

"Uh, Grissom. Can I use your restroom?"

"Oh, uh, sure." Grissom looked surprised. "Can you pop the trunk?"  
"Sure." Sara hit the trunk release. Grissom unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to the back of the SUV. He opened the trunk and hoisted his duffel over with his good arm.

The two waited on the steps until Mrs. Grissom opened the door. _Gil. _She signed. _And you've brought a friend._

_I'm Sara Sidle._ Sara's hands seemed to manipulate themselves into half-forgotten positions.

Grissom looked at Sara, taken aback.

_I'm just here to drop Gil off and use the bathroom._ She signed. _Then I'll be off._

_Nonsense. Please stay for dinner._ Grissom's mother led them into the foyer.

_Mrs. Grissom, I really can't stay. I just need to use your restroom._

_Down the hall and to the right._ Sara nodded and exited the foyer.

Grissom's mother folded her arms for a minute, staring her son down, before she lifted a hand and smacked Grissom on the side of his head.

A/N: What, _what_? Oh yeah, that's right, Grissom is about to experience the mother of all smackdowns. (Pun so intended.) Who knew Sara could sign? Who's excited to see why? What worked in this chapter for you? You guys should probably know that I originally intended to give Grissom some rare like, Avian flu or something, before I realized that was just ninety miles out of too far out. So, as always, please leave your thoughts, even if it's just a quick review!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I've actually had this written for a couple of days now, I've just been too lazy to type it up and post it. But I'm really sorry for making you guys wait. So here's chapter eight. (I think.)

PS: All thoughts are in single quotes, all sign language is in italics, and all regular conversations are in quotation marks.

Chapter Eight 

_Ow! _Grissom glared at his mother. _What the Hell was that for?_

_I didn't raise an idiot, Gilbert_. His mother's glare was far scarier than his own. _She brought you here but she won't stay for dinner? What did you do?_

_Why do you assume I did something?_

Another glare. _Gil, I've known you for fifty years._

Grissom heard the bathroom door click. _Mom, can we not talk about this just yet?_

"Talk about what?" Sara asked aloud.

"About you staying for dinner." Grissom grabbed his mother's hands, stilling her fingers. "Please, my mother loves to entertain. And she's never met any of my friends."

"We're _not_ friends."

"Sara, please. Just stay for dinner. It's a free meal before you go back to Vegas. And it's not takeout on speed dial."

"Fine." Sara huffed. "I'll stay for dinner."

-------------------------------

Grissom hadn't lied. His mother was an excellent cook.

Grissom's mother set her fork down and looked at Sara. _I'm sorry, dear. I know your name, but you don't know mine. I'm Emily._

It made sense to Sara now. The Emily that Grissom had been going to visit was his mother, not a girlfriend.

_The pasta is delicious._ Sara complimented Emily.

_Thank you, Sara. You know, Gil never brings anyone home with him._ She leveled a sly look at the two of them.

Grissom glared at his mother.

_What? It's true. How long have you two known each other?_

_Fifteen years._ Grissom replied.

'Fourteen years, 278 days, and approximately four hours.' Sara mentally corrected him.

_Do you work with Gil? _Emily pried.

_Yes. We're both CSIs. _Sara nodded.

Emily turned to Grissom, staring at his arm, which he'd used to set his napkin on the table.

_Gil, what's that on your arm?_

Grissom had skillfully hidden his cast from Emily with a baggy forensics jacket and he'd kept his arm under the table at dinner. But he'd forgotten and reached for his water glass.

_It's a cast, Mom._

_A cast? Gilbert Grissom, why on Earth do you have a cast?_

_I got in a car accident, Mom. That's why Sara drove me here._

Emily looked like she was close to killing her son. _Finish your dinner, Gil._

-------------------------------

It was after midnight when Emily had forced pasta with cream sauce, German chocolate cake with fresh fruit and fudge drizzle sauce, and a cup of espresso down Sara's throat.

_Sara, it's much too late for you to be out driving._ Emily fussed. _You can stay here. I'm sure Gil won't mind taking the couch._

_I'm fine to drive._ Sara protested, trying to cover her yawn.

_You can't lie to me. I'm a mother. Please, stay the night._

_Mrs. Grissom, I really do have to get home. _

Emily nodded. _You must have a boyfriend waiting for you at home._

If it were anybody but Grissom's mother, Sara might've strangled her. _Nope. No boyfriend._

_Husband?_

_No._

Emily cocked her head.

Sara's chest tightened. 'Oh, she's good.' Sara fumed. _You know, I think I'll stay the night. _

A slow, satisfied grin spread over Emily's face.

'Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to regret this?' Sara sighed.

-------------------------------

There was Nick, buried underneath the ground with the Plexiglas cover over his head. Sara tried to run to him, but an arm snaked around her waist and held her. When Sara started to feel a sharp pressure against her neck, she elbowed Adam in the ribs and broke free, running into Grissom's arms. When she looked up, Sara realized she was staring at Vincent Lurie.

Sara sat bolt upright and screamed soundlessly. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. 'I need some water.' Sara rolled out of bed and quietly opened the door. Emily might be deaf, but Grissom wasn't. Sara didn't want to risk waking him and having to converse. Tiptoeing past the couch and into the kitchen, Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She opened the fridge and looked for a bottle of water.

"Looking for something?" A rough, scratchy voice from behind startled her.

"A bottle of water." Sara replied crossly.

"In the back." Grissom reached past Sara, his warm stomach pressing firmly into her back, and grabbed two bottles of water. He handed her a bottle and leaned back against the counter.

As much as Sara longed to deny it, her traitorous heart couldn't help but notice that Grissom looked exceptionally adorable in navy boxers, a gray UCLA t-shirt, and tousled salt-and-pepper curls. He was the adorable little boy that Sara knew lingered beneath his hard exterior.

Grissom took a swig of water and Sara's eyes were drawn to the strong column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed and Sara swallowed hard.

"How do you know sign language?" Grissom asked quietly.

Sara was hesitant to let Grissom into her life any more. "My brother." She said simply.

"Was he deaf?"

Sara nodded slowly, hoping Grissom would leave her alone.

"How?"

"An explosion." Sara didn't elaborate.

"I'm so sorry, honey." Grissom took a step froward, presumably to give her some sort of hug.

"Don't be." She snapped acridly. "Don't be sorry for me Grissom. Just stay away from me. Leave me alone. I'm going back to Vegas in the morning. Then I'm going to sit down at my computer and write my resignation. I'm sick of this."

"Sara, don't –"

"Don't touch me!" Sara jerked her arm back. "It's way too little, way too late. I'm not your puppet. I'm not your stupid little plaything. You can't stop me from leaving this time."

"Why do you do this, Sara?" Grissom set down his water bottle. "Why do you always threaten to leave instead of staying and working things out?"

"There's nothing left _to _work out, Grissom. You can't seem to get it through your thick skull that _I am a person_. And I used to be your friend. Now, somehow, I'm not even worth speaking to anymore, except to yell at. Well that's exactly the type of abusive relationship my parents had and I'm not going to be my mother. I'm being the adult here and doing both of us a favor. That's why I'm leaving."

"Sara, you know damn well that's not why you're leaving. You say you're leaving just so I'll pay attention to you!" Grissom retorted.

Sara's face was turning red with unbridled fury. "That's a _prime_ example Grissom." Sara clenched her water bottle. "My vegetarianism may seem like such a small thing to you, but it's a big part of me. We've known each other fifteen years and you can't be bothered to remember something so important about me? Jesus Christ, Nick's goddamn _mother_ remembered that about me and I've met her maybe once."

"It's not like that, Sara. That case was tough for me. My mind was elsewhere."

"It wasn't just that case, Grissom." Sara sighed. "It's all the time."

Grissom had no answer for that. "I'm sorry." He hung his head.

Sara yawned. "It's late. I should go to bed."

"Sara, wait." Grissom called.

She paused.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore." He said softly. "I don't want to have to get a candy striper to lie that I'm on my deathbed so that you'll speak to me."

"You never had to lie." She blinked rapidly, trying to prevent the tears from slipping over.

"Would you have come to me otherwise?"

Sara kept her back to Grissom as she answered. "Haven't I always?"

-------------------------------

Grissom tossed and turned getting tangled in the quilt. He glanced at the clock over the fireplace mantel. The red numbers tauntingly informed him that it was three in the morning. Far too late for a halfway decent night's sleep and too early to get up and start the day.

Grissom peeled back the coverlet and slid out of bed. He padded down the hall and gently pushed Sara's door open. It was wrong, and he knew it, but it felt so good. It felt wonderful to watch her sleep, hair spread out like a halo on the soft white pillowcase.

He pushed the door open a little further and a little more and before he realized it, he was standing next to her bed. Tentatively, Grissom reached over and pushed Sara's hair back slightly. Not wanting to disturb her, Grissom pulled his hand back.

He tugged the blanked up over her shoulders and stared for another long moment before he exited the room and carefully shut the door behind himself.

-------------------------------

"Brass, what have we got?" Warrick pushed open the to the school's gym.

"Dead cheerleader." Brass' blank look suggested that he'd seen far too much and a dead cheerleader was just par for the course. "Coroner just pronounced."

"Thanks."

Nick poked his head into the ladies locker room. "He, 'Rick…We've got another one." He walked carefully towards the body. " Oh my God." Nick caught sight of a faint rise and fall of the chest. "I need medics! There's a live one!"

At his shout, a team of paramedics rushed in.

Nick stepped back to let the medics do their job. "Please call us when you get to the hospital, okay guys?"

"Sure thing, Stokes." The captain nodded.

-------------------------------

True to his word, Captain James had phoned the CSIs the minute the girl had woken up. Nick and Warrick had driven to the hospital and were now dealing with a nurse who didn't seem to believe that they were CSI.

"Here's my badge!" Warrick thrust his ID at Nurse Evil.

"This looks doctored." She squinted, holding the badge up to the light.

"Agnes." A younger, blonde nurse scolded the crotchety old nurse. "These men are really CSI. Captain James said they'd be by. They're here to see Amy Paxton. I'll show them."

The nurse personally escorted them to Amy's room. "Her mother is expecting you."

"Thanks." Warrick pushed open the door. The young woman by Amy's bed stood. Warrick's jaw dropped.

"_Kelli_?"

-------------------------------

"Bye mom." Lindsey slammed the door shut and stepped out onto the grounds Shale Ranch, just outside of Las Vegas.

"Have a good time at riding lessons." Catherine had been at first reluctant to accept the cars and the horse and the money from Sam, but maybe giving Lindsey somewhere to go, somewhere to vent her frustrations would be good for the younger girl.

Lindsey waved and trotted off, every inch the perfect cowgirl. She'd insisted on Western riding lessons, finding English too prissy for her tastes. She blended in perfectly in her well-worn stretch jeans, short sleeve button-down top, black riding boots, and black helmet tucked under her arm. Catherine watched as a tall brunette slapped Lindsey on the back and led her into the barn to say good morning to the horse Sam had bought.

-------------------------------

"You must be Lindsey." A tall brunette, towering over Lindsey at around five foot eleven, guessed.

"That's me." Lindsey couldn't help but feel jealous of the girl's delicate, petite features, clear porcelain skin, and clear gray eyes.

"I'm Sophie McAllister." She clapped a hand over Lindsey's shoulder. "C'mon, I'll introduce you to Ben. He's the riding instructor."

Sophie pulled Lindsey along to the lounge where the rest of the riding students resided. Apparently, despite Sophie's sophisticated looks and height, the girl was only a young sixteen. Ben, the riding instructor, commanded the attention of every female in the class. Not just because he was the instructor, but because he was built tall, like Sophie, six three, Lindsey guessed, with wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. And the muscles. Even a loose riding shirt couldn't disguise the six-pack and firm biceps on Ben.

"Lindsey Willows, Sophie McAllister, Cara Whitman, Daisy Delero, and Andrea Tyson, you're with me." Ben glanced up from his clipboard.

Sophie and Lindsey turned to each other and made swooning motions while Ben had his back turned. Lindsey grinned. So far, her first day of riding lessons were turning out to be rather pleasant.

-------------------------------

A/N: So. Sara's brother was deaf. Explains how she knew how to sign. How did you feel about Grissom and Sara's conversation or the ever-calculating Grissom? What did you like and what didn't work? As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as I very much enjoyed writing it!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Alright, c'mon, you know you're proud of me for getting another chapter up so quickly… So, let's get to it!

**The _real_ Chapter Eight**

"Warrick?" Kelli was obviously shocked.

"Wait. Y'all know each other?" Nick interrupted.

"Kelli, Nick Stokes. Nick, Kelli Grissom." Warrick sighed.

Nick's jaw dropped. "Say _what?_ Okay, back up, back up. Would you please explain what the Hell is going on here?"

"Kelli is Grissom's half-sister." Warrick explained. "I didn't know you had a daughter."

"I…" Kelli glanced at Amy.

"It's okay, Kel, I don't mind them knowing." Amy shrugged.

"Amy is my stepdaughter." Kelli expanded. "My husband died a few years back. He left Amy in my custody."

"Grandmother has never forgiven Dad for that."

"But I legally adopted her before John's death, so the courts gave me custody."

"Kelline Chelsea Paxton-Grissom!" A voice yelled, followed by an exceptionally pissed-off looking gray-haired woman.

"Oh, Lord." Kelli groaned.

"Grandmother." Amy supplied.

"Kelline, what is this about my granddaughter being in the ER?"

"Good afternoon, Nora." Kelli replied pleasantly. "And I've asked you to call me Kelli. And I never added Paxton to my name. It's Kelli Grissom."

Nora Paxton was not the type of woman to say "whatever," but Nick could tell she sorely wanted to.

"Hmph. Taken your ring off, I see." Nora jibed.

"Nora, it's been six years. You _cannot_ expect me to remain celibate forever."

"I did when my husband died."

Kelli's only reply was a raised eyebrow and a derisive snort.

Nora huffed. "Amy, are you alright? I knew John never should have left you with Kelline."

"_Grandmother_." Amy rebuked her. "Kelli has taken exemplary care of me since Dad died."

"You go to that heathen public school and you're on that cheerleading squad and you prance around in those tiny little skirts –"

Nick could see that Kelli was really getting steamed. "Ma'am," he interrupted turning on all his Texas charm. "We're conducting an official investigation, so unless you have pertinent information concerning the murder of Amber Carlin, I need you to step outside for a moment while I question Miss Paxton and Ms. Grissom."

Nora was livid. "I have a right –"

"Actually," Warrick stepped in. "You don't. You are neither Ms. Paxton's legal guardian, nor are you her lawyer. You have no place in any of these proceedings. So, Mrs. Paxton, please wait outside."

Nora threw her audience one last imperious look before exiting the room with the most ladylike stomp either CSI had ever seen.

Amy sighed with relief, as did Kelli.

"Nick, why don't I talk to Kelli and you talk to Amy." Warrick suggested.

"Sure." He pulled up a chair next to Amy's bed while Warrick led Kelli out into the hall.

"Amy, I know it's been a long day, and you're probably ready to go to sleep, but I need you to answer a couple of questions before you do that."

Amy nodded. "I figured."

"Okay. How did you know Amber Carlin?"

"We were on the cheerleading squad together."

"When did you last see her alive?"

"Nine fifteen at night." Amy replied quickly and firmly.

"That's an awfully accurate time stamp." Nick commented.

"The time had just flashed on the Jumbotron." Amy clarified.

"Had anybody been threatening Amber, or was she in any kind of trouble? Any guys not understand the meaning of the word 'no?'" Nick pressed.

"Nope. Amber was Miss Perfect. Everybody loved her, 4.0 student, adorable boyfriend…the works."

"Do you remember _anything_ about Amber last night?"

"I'm really sorry, but I don't. I don't even remember what time I got knocked out."

"Tell me about that." Nick leaned back. "Did you get a look at your attacker? Any look at all?"

"I'm really sorry, but no. The last thing I remember is getting smacked in the back of the head with something friggin' heavy."

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Nick asked.

"Sure. Go ahead." Amy leaned forward. Nick stood and carefully examined the base of Amy's neck, where she'd been hit.

"Wow. You've got a decent-sized bump growing there." He commented. "Did the doctor say anything about a concussion?"

"No driving for a week, minimum." Amy replied glumly.

"Let me write down my cell phone number, just in case you remember something, okay?"

"Sure." Amy rolled her neck and touched the base of her skull. "Ow."

"I'll bet." Nick sympathized.

"Ew. There's something wet in my hair." Amy tugged her hand away from her hair. "It looks like…green paint?"

"Looks like." Nick agreed. "May I take a swab?"

"Sure."

Nick uncapped a swab and rubbed it over the green paint. "I will get this to the lab. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks Mr. Stokes." Amy tried to smile brightly, but winced in pain. "Ow."

Nick tried to hold back a chuckle.

-----------------------------------

Grissom guessed that at some point he'd fallen asleep because his auto-set radio alarm clock had gone off and the local classical station was playing Rachmaninoff's _Isle of the Dead_.

'What an uplifting piece.' Grissom thought sarcastically. 'Perfect for such a wonderful morning.'

His sour mood came as somewhat of a surprise. While he was normally apathetic and passive, this morning he was bitter and hostile. Mechanically, he wandered into the kitchen and flicked on the light switch and turned on the coffeemaker.

"Morning." Sara didn't bother to add the 'good' as it certainly didn't feel like a good morning.

"Good morning." He returned, pleased that she was even speaking to him.

Sara cocked her head. "What's on the stereo?" She asked.

"Rachmaninoff." Grissom listened to the low, lilting, ominous tones of the piece. It was haunting, and the middle seemed almost remorseful. The two remained silent for a few minutes, listening to the music.

_Good morning. _Emily strolled into the kitchen. _Did you sleep well, Sara?_

_Yes, thank you Mrs. Grissom. _Sara accepted the carafe from Grissom.

_Well, it certainly was a pleasure having you stay with us._

Sara nodded and gulped down her coffee. _I really should go if I'm going to make it home in time to get any sleep for shift tomorrow._

Emily nodded. _At least let me pack you something for the road._

'Pick your battles.' Sara reminded herself. _That would be great. Thank you._

Emily set to work, filling a paper lunch sack with an egg-salad sandwich, a shrink-wrapped brownies, carrots, and a bottle of water. _Please do visit again, Sara_.

Mercifully, Grissom saved Sara from having to reply. "I'll walk you out to your car, Sara." He led her to the Denali sitting on the front parking strip. "Sara…" He hesitated and ran a hand over his bearded jaw. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."

"Go like what, Grissom?" Sara knew she was picking a fight, but sometimes a fight was necessary to get everything out into the open.

"You weren't supposed to hate me."

"I don't hate you." She returned. "I just can't trust you. With anything. You broke my heart. A couple of times. Then you scared me half to death. I might not hate you, but I am mad."

"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you." He whispered.

Sara closed her eyes. "Don't say things like that."

"Why not? Now seems as good a time as any." Grissom lifted one rough, callused palm to her cheek and carefully smoothed his thumb over the pale skin.

Sara couldn't help herself. She leaned into Grissom's hand, regret welling up in her stomach as she forced herself to say, "it's too late, Grissom. You're too late. I spent too many months moping over you. The only thing I can do now is pick up the pieces of my life and move on."

"To where, Sara? Move on to what?"

"Something. Anything. Just…not here."

Grissom nodded and gave her cheek one last stroke before his fingers stilled. With his right hand, he reached into his back pocket and tugged out a plain white envelope.

"What's that?" Sara asked warily.

"A letter." He shifted uneasily. "It's supposed to…I…it's what I couldn't say."

Sara turned the envelope over in her hands. "I'm sorry it had to end this way."

"It doesn't have to end." He raised his other hand to her cheek, so that he was cupping her face.

"It ended a long time ago." Sara told him sadly. "I will always love you, Griss, but this is the way it has to be."

They stared at each other for a minute that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Sara couldn't tear her eyes from Grissom, and he couldn't seem to take his hands from her face. Grissom leaned down, as if to kiss her, but instead simply touched his forehead to Sara's. They both breathed in deeply, memorizing everything about each other. Sara reveled in her last whiff of Grissom's spicy, alpha male scent, and Grissom inhaled Sara's clean soap and rosewater scent. Sara closed her eyes, forming a barrier against the rush of sensations.

"I should…go." Sara's voice broke and her breath against Grissom's lips drew them both back to reality.

"Yeah." Grissom pulled back.

Sara ducked into the driver's seat of her Denali and Grissom shut the door behind her. The engine roared to life and Sara slowly rolled away from the house. She gathered speed until she turned left at the end of the block and disappeared from Grissom's sight. Grissom turned back to the house and quietly opened the door.

His mother put a hand on his shoulder. _Gil_.

Grissom shrugged the hand off. _Not now._

-----------------------------------

"Ow." Lindsey groaned, extending her right leg and flexing, then repeating the stretch with her left leg.

"Hey Linds." Ben flashed a heartstopping grin. "How's it going?"

"My legs _ache_." Lindsey moaned.

"You're saddlesore." Ben smirked.

"Saddlesore?" Lindsey asked, sliding her helmet into its designated cubby.

"You've never ridden before, have you? When you sit in the saddle for long periods of time and you aren't used to it, your legs will ache." He chuckled. "Come on. I'll help you unsaddle and put away your tack."

"Thanks." Lindsey trotted after Ben, ignoring the dull ache working its way through her legs. "So, how old are you anyway?"

Ben looked surprised, but nevertheless, he answered. "I just turned seventeen. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." Lindsey hedged.

Ben narrowed his eyes, but didn't press. "Hey, Windwaker." He greeted Lindsey's horse. "Who bought this girl for you?" He asked Lindsey.

"My grandfather left her to me." Lindsey ran a hand along Windwaker's belly, so as not to startle the mare before she started undoing the cinch.

"Your grandfather has excellent taste." Ben worked the bit loose from Windwaker's mouth. "What is she, American Quarter?"

"That sounds about right." Lindsey flipped the cinch over the saddlehorn and hoisted the saddle off of Windwaker's back.

Ben deftly retied the quick-release knot and hooked the reins over his shoulder. "Here, I've got it." He took the saddle from her. Ben carefully settled Windwaker's tack into the proper spot.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Hey, don't forget about the barbecue this weekend."

"I'll be there." Lindsey grinned.

-----------------------------------

"So that was the Nick you wanted to set me up with?" Kelli asked Warrick.

"I did not want to set you up with him." Warrick protested. "I just wanted you to meet him."

"You did so want to set us up and don't lie about it."

Warrick sidestepped the conversation. "So were you at the assembly? I didn't see you there."

"No. I met the paramedics here." She shrugged.

"Is that why you weren't looking for a squeeze at the Highball that night?"

"What?" Kelli didn't seem to comprehend the non sequitur.

"Amy." He supplied.

"Still confused."

"You didn't want to bring home a bad influence. Amy's important to you."

"She is. It's just been us two for the last six years. Her mother died when she was two. Amy hardly remembers her. I've done the best I can, but even we sometimes fight."

"Nick's a great guy." Warrick started in on his sales pitch. "He has sixteen nieces and nephews, and he's nice guy."

Kelli laughed. "Alright, alright. Sold. Set me up." She rolled her eyes. "Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic."

-----------------------------------

A/N2: So, what did you guys think of Grissom and Sara's goodbye? I hope it was emotional without being sappy. I was shooting for a strong-Sara-but-still-reluctant-to-let-go-Sara or did I just end up with Irrational Sara?

Coming next chapter: Sara gets home and reads Grissom's letter, Grissom meets up with another somebody from his past. Lindsey attends the barbecue. Kelli and Nick's first date! I hope to have it up by Sundayish, maybe earlier depending!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: All I have to say about this chapter is Happy Halloween and y'all get to read the letter. Also, you'll just have to be supersmart and distinguish between sign/thoughts/dreams

Chapter Nine 

Sara managed to make it home before she collapsed onto her bed. Her tears flowed long and hard, eyes burning, throat feeling as if someone were scratching steel wool down the tissue.

Sara curled up, clutching Grissom's letter. She couldn't read it. She _shouldn't_ read it. But still her fingers itched to tug out the letter inside. _Be strong_. She commanded herself. _You had good reasons for what you did._ Finally, her sobs subsided into smaller hiccups. Sara sat up and slid a finger under the flap. _You can do this. You will not crack._ Sara took a deep breath and unfolded the letter inside.

…………………………

_"Kelli? Hi, it's Nick. Nick Stokes from, uh, yesterday. I was just calling to see if you'd like to go out to dinner sometime. How's tomorrow night? Anyway, give me a call. My number is 555-8018."_

Amy replayed the message for Kelli. "C'mon, Kel. We know he has a job, he's a nice guy, dresses well, and he's from a good family."

Kelli looked startled. "How do you know that?"

"Google is your friend, Kelli. Don't be afraid of it." Amy waved a sheet of paper. "Check out all of these articles on the Stokes family. His mother is one of the top lawyers in the state and his father sits on the state Supreme Court. He has five sisters and one brother. He's the youngest. Two of his sisters are society wives, one sister is a lawyer, one is a kindergarten teacher, and one is an officer at a bank. His brother works for a communications company. That's all I can find so far. Give me some more time."

"_Amy_."

"What? It's not illegal. I Googled him." Amy held out the phone. "Call."

Kelli punched in the number. "Hi, Nick?"

…………………………

"Ready to go, Mom?" Lindsey waited eagerly by the car.

"Yeah, sure."

"Can I drive?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine chuckled dryly. "Not a chance, kiddo. You've had your permit a week."

"Come on, mom. How cool would I look if I drove up in a big ol' SUV?"

"We'll talk about it when you finish Driver's Ed."

"Mo-om."

"Not happening." Catherine opened the driver's side door and slid inside. "No way, no how."

"Please?" Lindsey begged.

"No." Catherine's cell phone trilled, breaking the discussion. "Hello?"

"Hey Cath." Sara's voice sounded timid.

"Sara? Where are you?"

"At home." She sniffled. "Are you busy right now?"

"What – no. I was just dropping Lindsey at a thing. Are you okay? Is Grissom okay?"  
"Grissom is fine." Sara couldn't conceal the bitterness in her voice.

"Whoa, girl. Hold on. I'll be there in a few." Catherine snapped her phone shut.

"You're not coming?" Lindsey looked positively giddy.

"I think Sara needs me." Catherine ignored her daughter's eagerness to be rid of her.

"Well, if she needs you…"

"Oh, look, here we are." Catherine tossed her daughter a glare. "See you later."

"I love you. See ya later!" Lindsey jumped out of the car and didn't glance back as she ran to her friends.

…………………………

"Hey Soph." Lindsey greeted the tall raven-haired beauty, not noticing the boy next to her until Sophie introduced them.

"Lindsey, I'd like you to meet my twin brother, Dylan." Sophie gestured to her companion. Dylan and Sophie had the same height, but the similarities ended there. Dylan had fair hair to Sohpie's jet black, he was well-tanned to Sophie's pale, milky skin, his glasses were thick, with heavy black frames, unlike Sophie's contacts.

Twins? Lindsey would barely buy related. _What a charity case_. She thought unkindly.

"Sophie took a hearty bite of her hot dog. "Dylan, I simply do not understand how you can be a vegetarian."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Pick up a newspaper, Soph."

"Why are you so rude to me?" Sophie set down her hot dog and put her delicate hands to slim hips. "What did I ever do to you?"

Dylan snorted. "I've got it narrowed down to you were born."

"Look, Dylan. I may not be taking three AP courses and fucking _Latin_, but I'm not stupid!"

"I never said you were!" Dylan shouted, throwing up his hands.

"You implied it." Sophie retorted.

"I'm going to find Ben." Lindsey informed the bickering siblings, sliding away.

…………………………

_Gil? _Emily's eyes shined with worry. _What happened, Gil?_

_Nothing, Mom_. Grissom shook her off.

_Gil, don't give me that. You don't sulk this much unless something is wrong. So I repeat, what is wrong?_

_Nothing_. Grissom insisted.

Emily folded her arms and stared at her son for a few minutes. Then with a dramatic sigh, her hands moved again. _Fine. I can't force you to tell me. _She paused. _Anna Swanson is stopping by tomorrow. You should say hello_.

_I haven't seen Anna in years._ Grissom signed back.

_That doesn't mean you can't say hello. _Emily shot back.

_Mother – _Gil started with no small measure of annoyance.

Emily pursed her lips. _I don't know why I try_.

…………………………

"Sara?" Catherine called, using the Hide-a-key stashed under the stone walkway. "Sara, where are you?" She moved past the breakfast bar and into the hall. "Are you okay?" Catherine heard a sniffle emanating from the door to her right. "Sara?" She pushed open the door to find Sara curled up on her bed, clutching a single jade throw pillow, sobbing.

Catherine's pager beeped. _419 at the Trop_. "Shit." Catherine swore. She flipped open her cell phone and hit speed dial number three. "Hey. I need you here. Thanks." Catherine sighed and stroked Sara's forehead. "I have to go, sweetheart. Hold on tight, okay?" Catherine stood. "Okay, honey?"

Sara's sobs only increased in volume.

"Oh, Jesus." Catherine put a hand to her head. "God damn it!" She released Sara's hand and made her way to the door. A light knock startled Catherine.

She opened the door. "Hey. Come in."

"Thanks." Jim Brass stepped over the threshold.

"You sure got here fast." Catherine commented.

"I was in the neighborhood." Jim replied gruffly. "Where is she?"

"In the bedroom." Catherine directed him.

"Thanks." Brass shut the door behind Catherine and went into Sara's room. "Sara, it's Jim. What are you holding there, sweetheart?" He pried the letter from Sara's hand. "This is from Gil." He noted. "Oh boy."

…………………………

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Dylan apologized. "Sophie and I don't usually fight like that."

Lindsey nodded cooly.

"I don't think she's stupid." Dylan continued. "I don't."

"Yeah." Lindsey tossed off sarcastically. "I can see that."

Dylan hung his head. "There's a game of Capture the flag going. Do you play?"

"Do I run around and play tag?" Lindsey raised an eyebrow. She caught sight of Ben setting up the divides and picking team captains. "Sure."

…………………………

_Dear Sara,_

_So now you've met Amy, Veronica, and Spencer. You've seen who I used to be._

Do you remember when we met? I do. At that art showing just off campus. It was hot and muggy that night, that's why you took off your coat. I couldn't stop staring at your shoulders.

Brass knew where this was going. _Oh, this cannot be good._

_When you asked me for coffee that night, I said yes because I didn't know how dangerous you were. If I had known, I wouldn't have said yes._

_Congrats, Gil. You're a fucking moron._ Brass rolled his eyes.

_But I did say yes. And as hard as I try, I can't regret it._

_There you go, Gil_ Brass was thoroughly relieved that his best friend managed to pull his head out of his ass long enough to assure Sara that he wasn't unaffected by her and that he was glad they'd met. _Now don't screw it up._

_I can't regret any of the smiles, any of the laughs, or any of the looks. I can't wish that it had never happened._

_If I see a but, I'll friggin' murder you, Gil._ Brass muttered.

_And when we were at Berkeley, I remembered all of it. So you remember that night I met you, we met at the Tripp Art Gallery. I went back when we were there. They still have the painting that we spent two hours staring at. I never told you this, but the next night after I met you and we went to that opening, I went back and bought a quilt with the print on it. I thought that was as close as we were going to get. I still have the quilt. It's buried in my bedroom closet. I couldn't bear to sleep under it once you came to Vegas. It didn't seem right._

_But this doesn't seem right either, hurting you like I have been. I do regret all the times I've hurt and I hope that, despite my latest screw-up, I'm not too late. I'm coming home Friday night. I'll make a vegetarian dinner for two. If you decide I'm worth a shot, I'll wait until midnight_.

Brass sighed. _You've got to give the man credit. He knows how to keep the ball in someone else's court._ He scanned the last two words.

_Love,_

Gil.

…………………………

A/N(2): Oh, gee, I guess I lied. Any guesses as to Anna Swanson's significance? Who thinks Sara will go to Grissom?

Not my greatest chap, I know, but I posted on some sort of schedule-type basis!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Sorry, I know it's been a little long since I posted, but I had to take a break to get some re-perspective on this story and deal with RL. But here it is!

Chapter Ten 

"Okay, here's the plan." Lindsey's team huddled together. "Lindsey, you and Soph are pretty quick. You're going to be our runners. Everybody else, distract the other team. Shannon, you're going to be our fake runner. Make sure they think you have the flag. Everybody got it?" Dylan glanced from player to player. "Okay, break."

"Everybody read?" The ref called.

The two team captains nodded.

"3, 2, 1, go!" The ref shouted.

Lindsey and Sophie hid behind brush trees, waiting until the first round of chargers had passed. Lindsey lifted her head at Sophie and Sophie nodded. They sprinted towards the flag. Both Sophie and Lindsey grabbed at the flag, but Sophie got it, tucking the flag neatly up her sleeve, only the bright orange corner sticking out, as per the rules that at least one half square inch must be visible at all times.

Sophie and Lindsey dashed across the field in separate directions. "I got her!" Ben yelled, tackling Lindsey to the ground. "Unhand that flag." He joked.

Lindsey opened her palm. "Not it." She grinned cattily, chest heaving and pressing into Ben.

"You're…" He glanced up to see Sophie crashing across the divide between the two teams amidst cheers from her side. "Damn, Linds." He was still lying on top of her. "You're good."

"Thank you." Lindsey smirked. 'I should, uh, get back to my team."

"Oh, sorry." Lindsey tried to ignore the tingles prickling over her stomach and legs as Ben slid off of her.

Lindsey scrambled up and trotted off.

………………………….

"Good morning." Brass handed Sara a cup of coffee.

"Oh, God." Sara put a hand to her forehead. "How'd you get in here?"

"Cath let me in. You called her last night."

"I _did_?"

"Yep." Brass nodded. "You were pretty shaken up."

"That's good to know." Sara deadpanned.

"Sara, Gil sent you this letter." Brass sheepishly held out the expensive stationary. "I, um, read it."

"_Jim_!" Sara looked horrified. "You had no right to read this letter!"

"I know. And I'm sorry. But Sara, you were so out of it and you were clinging to that letter as if your life depended on it, so I thought it might have something important."

Sara sighed. "I couldn't finish reading it. What did it say?"

Brass handed her the letter. "How far did you get?"

"He said I was too dangerous." Sara snorted. She unfolded the letter and forced herself to read.

Jim poured himself a glass of water and watched the conflicting emotions flash over Sara's face.

"He loves me?" She whispered. "I mean, I know he said it in California, but I didn't think he really meant it."

Brass took her hand. "I'm glad you're okay, Sara. We were worried about you."

"Was I really that out of it?" Sara sipped at her coffee.

Brass nodded. "You weren't…Cath said you wouldn't talk to her and you were crying a lot."

"Wow." She sighed. "What am I going to do, Jim?" She leaned against the counter.

"I can't tell you, sweetheart." Brass considered Sara to be the daughter he'd never truly had. Ellie hadn't been able to save herself, but Sara had. "You've got to decide for yourself. No one can tell you what to do. It's got to be your decision."

Sara stared at the wall. "What do I do?"

………………………….

"Gil? I'd like you to meet my cousin." Anna Swanson was no longer the mousy brown-haired butterball Grissom remembered. She was petite, about 5' 3" and much slimmer. Her half-curly half –straight locks had been completely straightened with a flatiron and dyed to a more shimmering auburn.

But it wasn't Anna's new look that startled Grissom. It was her companion.

"Gil?" Anna's companion asked incredulously.

"_Heather_?"

………………………….

"Hi." Nick stood and pulled Kelli's chair out. "I hope this restaurant is okay."

"It's perfect." Kelli assured him.

"They have plenty of vegetarian dishes, if you're a vegetarian. My friend Sara is a vegetarian and she –"

"Stop." Kelli held up a hand. "Please stop rambling. I love it. It's great." She started laughing.

"What?" Nick demanded.

"Warrick said I had to watch out for you." She giggled. "He's a real lady-killer." She imitated Warrick's lower, scratchy voice. "He said you'd charm the pants off of me. You're not suave at all."

Nick recovered admirably. "How do you know this isn't just an act?""I guess I'll just have to take my chances." Kelli picked up her menu.

………………………….

"So?" Amy greeted Kelli at the door. "How did it go?"

"It went fine, Ames." Kelli shrugged off her coat.

"But you're home early." Amy followed Kelli.

"He had to go in to work." Kelli explained.

"But you're seeing him again, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Oh, Warrick called. He told me to tell you that Gil will be back in town on Friday. Who's Gil?"

"I'll tell you when I know."

………………………….

"How do you…how did you meet?" Anna asked.

"Problems at work." Heather supplied.

Anna's smile faded. She'd always had a bit of a crush on Grissom and she had to have known what Heather did for a living.

"Not those kind of problems." Grissom clarified. "One of Heather's employees ran into a little trouble."

"Ah." Anna didn't look convinced. "Is your mother here, Gil?"

"Yeah. Upstairs." Grissom let them into the house.

With one last look, Anna started up the stairs.

"Gil." Heather practically purred. "It's been a long time."

_Not long enough_. Grissom thought darkly. "It has."

"You never apologized for siccing the police on me." She scooted closer.

"I'm sorry." Grissom apologized mechanically.

"Hmm. I know how you could make it up to me." Heather suggested coyly.

Grissom froze. _How exactly do I answer that?_

"You know, we never made it…as _far_ as I intended." Heather pursed her lips seductively.

"Heather," Grissom hesitated. "I'm…you and I aren't going to happen."

Heather straightened up and her voice lost its soft smooth tone. "It's her, isn't it?"

"Who?"

"That brunette bitch. I saw you talking to her when I came down to the station for questioning. She's who stopped you from sleeping with me, wasn't she?" Heather had gone from cute kitten to angry tiger, claws fully out. "Did she finally let you paw around for awhile?"

"Don't talk about Sara like that." Grissom said quietly, firmly.

"Oh, you found her and that Nick going at it like rabbits, I bet." Heather tossed her hair.

"Heather, I'm warning you. Stop. It."

A delighted grin spread across Heather's face. "Well, well. You're still waiting!"

"Get. Out." Grissom clenched his teeth.

"But I have to wait for Anna." Heather's eyes went wide and innocent.

"Anna, how long will this take?" Anna came by every few days to check on Emily, keep her company, and prepare a few meals. She'd just stopped by to visit since Grissom was taking care of his mother.

"Done." Anna reappeared.

"Great. See you later." He almost pushed Heather out the door.

_This isn't over_, Heather fumed. _A month. I can have her out of the way and be lying in Gil's arms inside a month_.

………………………….

"Hey, doc's posting." Warrick grabbed Nick.

"Right behind you." Nick followed Warrick towards the morgue.

"Nick." Casey from tox popped his head out of the tox lab. "Got your results back on the Carlin case."

"Warrick, I'll met you at the autopsy, okay?"

"Sure." Warrick headed to the morgue.

"So, whatcha got?" Nick leaned against the wall.

"Methylenedioxymethamphetamine."

"MDMA?" Nick cocked an eyebrow.

"Ecstasy." Casey confirmed. "Pure. It's next to impossible to get pure MDMA in the US. Most E is laced with speed, Ritalin, or caffeine. Sometimes even heroin. That's what you're going to find at a rave. Pure stuff is more rare at a rave."

"Then why was she rolling?"

"That is your job." Casey handed off the report. "I just analyze."

"Okay, thanks." Nick made his way to the morgue.

"Your vic was probably…' The doc was saying.

"Rolling on E?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

Nick held up the tox report. "Casey said the stuff was pure."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "Doc, why would somebody take pure ecstasy? Don't ravers usually do a mix?"

"She could have a dealer friend." The doc replied. "Or she could be a dealer."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing that springs to mind. Small tears on the inside of her cheek and bite marks on her tongue suggest that she hadn't been using all that long, but her body shows signs of long-term abuse. It's a far-out possibility, but someone may have been drugging her to get her to lose her inhibitions."

"But that draws us back to why was the E pure?" Nick interjected.

"And why wouldn't someone who was just trying to get her messed up feed her vodka-laced drinks or slip her a roofie. Why go for E?" Warrick added.

"I didn't say it was a realisitc possibility. But if she's been a long-time user or if she's a dealer, she'd know to have some kind of a chew toy to prevent herself from waking up with a sore mouth." The doc shrugged.

"Hold on. I'll be right back." Nick ducked out of the morgue and dialed Kelli's home phone number.

"Hello?"

"Amy. Great. Was Amber a dealer?"

"Excuse me?" Amy seemed to choke on something.

"A dealer." Nick repeated.

"No!" Amy half-shouted. "I promise you that she was _not_ a dealer."

"Okay." Nick said, not entirely convinced. "See you later."

"Bye."

"Amy says Amber was definitely not supplying." Nick reentered the autopsy room.

"I recant my earlier statement that someone may have been lacing her or that she was a newbie." Doc Robbins mused.

Both men arched their eyebrows.

"She's got 4-HTP in her system. It stimulates the effects and or reduces the severity of the crash after the user comes down from the ecstasy high."

"Was she rolling at time of death?" Warrick asked.

"Not a lot in her system, so either it was starting to wear off or she didn't take a lot. Like I said, the HTP might've boosted the effects, so she would've known not to take as much."

Warrick's pager beeped. "The dad's back in town. I'm gonna go interview him."

"And I'll check with Hodges on that green paint." Nick followed Warrick out of the morgue. "Thanks doc."

………………………….

A/N: Alright, who loved smart!Nicky all knowing what methylenedioxymethamphetamine was?

Teasers for the next few chapters:

Lindsey gets into a little more trouble than she can handle. Grissom finally comes face-to-face with his possible half sister. Does Sara show up or not? And Nicky and Warrick make a startling discovery in the Carlin case.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Sorry for the delay on getting this chapter up. As usual, RL conspires against me. I hope everyone's having a great Veteran's Day Weekend!

**Chapter Eleven**

"The trace found on the back of Amy Paxton's head was industrial-grade interior paint in dark green. Sold by every paint store in Vegas. The cheap kind." Hodges lounged against one of his lab stations. "Until you find out something about the perp, it's going to be pretty impossible to trace."

"Thanks Hodges." Nick said, without meaning it at all. His pager beeped. _Back from interview. BR._ "Hey man." He greeted Warrick, walking into the break room. "What did you find?"

"Amber was moody. She'd have serious ups and downs. But her downs were really bad."

"Well, that would be consistent with Ecstasy use." Nick shrugged.

"But if she was using 4-HTP like the doc said, her seratonin would've spiked, so even if her body released a lot of seratonin at once, there still would've been some building up, so she wouldn't have crashed so badly." Warrick argued.

"What's your point?"

"There had to be something wrong with her for her to crash like that if she was taking something to prevent that very thing."

"Maybe." Nick looked doubtful. "I got the paint sample back from Hodges. Standard green paint. Nothing special."

"So what've we got?" Warrick sighed.

"Aside from nothing?"

"What did the doc list as COD?"

"Blunt force trauma."

Another sigh. "I vote we work the drug angle. So far it's our strongest and only lead. If amber owed money to someone, that would be motive.

"I'll talk to Brass, see if he can turn something up." Nick glanced over the casefile. "No weapons found at the scene, no shoe prints because there was no blood, nobody would've noticed somebody exiting the locker room because it opens to the gym lobby, not the main gym.

"Doors to the main gym were closed. We found the same paint on Amber's head as on Amy's."

"Which means that Amber was killed not long after Amy was hit." Nick picked up the train of musing. "Which is confirmed by Doc's estimation of her TOD." Nick glanced over Warrick's crime scene sketch. "This guy must've been waiting in the locker room and Amy was just in his way."

"The weapon was cylindrical. Thread marks on the vic's neck suggest a pipe."

"Well, a pipe is easy enough to hide under a bulky coat." Nick surmised.

"The paint that transferred from the pipe would be on the shirt or jacket that the perp was wearing." Warrick concluded. "So we're looking for somebody with a strong connections to Amber Carlin, a green paint stain on his or her jacket, and a pipe."

------------------------------------

Catherine closed her front door. What an impossibly long day. In fact, what an impossibly long month. Nick's rescue, Warrick's marriage, Grissom and Sara going to California, Lindsey's teenage rebellion, Sara's breakdown, and the move from swing back to night shift. Catherine was completely drained.

Lindsey wasn't the most talkative teenager, but Catherine hadn't gotten any calls about Lindsey skipping class, so Catherine was pleased.

But still, for all Catherine knew that Lindsey was a good kid, she wished that she and Lindsey could talk like they used to. It would never be that way again, but Catherine could wish.

Sara's breakdown had worried Catherine too. Sara was tough. Sara didn't cry. So it frightened Cath that Grissom could reduce Sara Sidle to tears.

Grissom. He'd been Catherine's best friend and confidante for nearly fifteen years, but sometimes his stupidity still managed to startle her. He loved Sara. He'd probably loved her since he met her. Certainly since she came to Vegas. The first time Catherine had seen Sara, she'd noticed a necklace around Sara's neck. When Sara leaned over, Catherine had seen the inscription on the charm. _EG_. Emily Grissom, Gil's mother. No way would he have given something that personal to just anyone. It had taken Catherine ten years just to learn Grissom's mother's first name.

And Warrick. He had been hers for a long time. Sure he'd stepped out on her occasionally. There had been other women over the years, but he'd always come back. He'd always been there for Lindsey, ready to come see her in every play since Eddie's death, there for Lindsey's eighth grade promotion. And now he was gone. Married. And Warrick was not someone who would take a commitment like marriage lightly. He was a 'til death do you part' kind of guy.

Catherine sighed again. How could her life have gone from great to shit in just over a year?

------------------------------------

"Sara, do you want me to go now?" Brass asked, finishing loading the dishwasher.

"Yes, no, I really don't know." Sara swiped at the stray tears still making their way down her cheek.

"You're still crying." Brass observed.

"I know." Sara flopped down on the couch where Grissom had sat a month before, listening to Sara spill her life's story.

Brass took a seat on the couch next to Sara. "This is good. When I got sober, they'd always tell me to let out my emotions. That if I let out the problems that I was drinking to suppress, I wouldn't have to drink anymore."

"I'm not a drunk." Sara said firmly.

"I know that. But why were you drinking that night?"

That night. That night people were still throwing in her face. That infamous night needed no date. Sara could recall the exact timestamp blinking on the dashboard clock on the Denali. "Lots of reasons." Sara hedged.

"What kind of reasons?" Brass pushed. "Grissom reasons?"

"No." Sara said quickly and then sighed. "Yes, maybe. It was that he recommended Nick for the promotion over me, when I have a better solve rate by a mile, that he rejected me and then flirted with Sophia right in front of me –"

"Wait, Sophia didn't transfer to nightshift until…you got drunk like that again?"

"Worse." Sara admitted. "But I didn't drive. And I am _not_ an alcoholic." She insisted.

"I didn't say you were. Look, Sophia's a detective and she's one of my own, but she's never quite gotten rid of Ecklie. I don't believe Gil would go after her. He loves you, remember."

"So? He went after Heather."

"Heather was a different scenario entirely." Brass jumped in. "And the thing with Sophia…it's been a long year for all of us. Ecklie changed shifts on us and Catherine's changed. She used to be his adviser on all things you. Then you and Catherine got into that fight and she put pressure on him to side with someone. He picked you over Catherine, which really pissed her off. So he turned to be his Sophia to be his new Catherine, but she wasn't quite what he expected."

"Ecklie with boobs?" Sara questioned snarkily.

"No. She's still under Ecklie's thumb, but she also has a crush on him. Gil doesn't deal well with feelings."

"Preaching. Choir." Sara snorted.

"All I'm saying is that Gil has some massive issues, and you shouldn't start drinking over him. He's my best friend, but he's also kind of a jerk. I think you would be happy together, but sometimes the world doesn't work out that way and…I couldn't protect Ellie from jerks like him, but I _will_ protect you."

"I'm not seven, Jim. I can protect myself." She jumped up, annoyed.

"I'm not saying you can't." Brass reminded her calmly. "I'm just saying I don't want to see you hurt, and I'll do anything and everything in my power to prevent it from happening."

Sara started pacing the length of her living room. "I don't know why he makes me so crazy." She flexed her hand. "It's like, every time I'm around him, the rational part of my brain takes a vacation."

"That would be love." Brass lifted his coffee cup in agreement.

"Well it _sucks_!" Sara fumed.

"No argument here."

"I love him?" Sara asked in the same whiny, plaintive tone a child might use while asking _do I hafta_?

"'Fraid so, kiddo." Brass downed the last of his coffee.

"Well, If I love him, then I should go to him on Friday, right?"

"I loved Rebecca." Brass reminded Sara of his ex-wife.

"So I shouldn't go?"

"You gotta do what your heart tells you, sweetheart."

Sara put her hands on her hips. "You are not making things any easier."

------------------------------------

Grissom pushed aside the door to the musty attic, making his way to the very back of the room. A black trunk bore his dad's name. _Tate Grissom_. A blue trunk for Emily, and a green trunk for little Gil.

Grissom hadn't dared open the black trunk until he was twenty. He was Assistant Coroner at the LA County Morgue, just waiting for Dr. Shaffer to retire. Dr. Shaffer's wife came to visit and she brought along her niece and her niece's cousin. Grissom wasn't stupid. He knew he was an attractive boy. He worked his way through Betty Shaffer and Valerie Mack before he moved onto Cassandra Whiteman. Cassandra had wanted a husband, babies, family dinners, and the occasional picnic.

Grissom left Cassandra in the middle of the night. Told her he was going for bagels.

When he heard later that Cassandra had slept with Director Thomas, Grissom knew where things were headed. Thomas made Grissom's professional life a living Hell. So Grissom decided to take matters into his own hands. He wooed Cassandra back, got her to make Thomas back off, and then he broke her heart again. This time, he made sure she knew he was leaving. For good. Because Cassandra just wasn't what he wanted.

That night, he opened the black trunk. He was man enough for his father. To face his father.

The second time he broke a girl's heart, it was easier. There was no dragged-out melodrama. Just one very pissed off girl screaming at him through the door. _Is this about your father_? Emily asked.

Thirty. Girl number three was the easiest. A few witty remarks, a relatively cheap bottle of wine, and a pair of blue eyes bought him a ride in Trisha – or maybe it was Trina – something-or-other's bed. He never found out her last name. Just zipped up and left.

The next night he'd gone to his mother's for dinner.

_Tell me, Gil. Does it make you feel like a man?_ Emily asked accusingly. Oops. Trisha-Trina had been Therese Trent, daughter of his mother's doctor. Dr. Trent had asked Emily to find another primary care physician.

At thirty-five, Grissom met his greatest challenge. He didn't wine and dine her. He fed her cheeseburgers and Coke. No fancy flowers for her, but a book instead. She called him Griss and made his heart do all sorts of funny things. But his heart had no place in the business of love. She was only too willing to give him what he wanted. He was through the door, had kissed her, and was working on her button-down t-shirt when he stopped.

_Does it make you feel like a man_?

He pushed her off and ran back to his hotel room. She was confused and hurt, and he wanted to go to her,to explain it all, but he couldn't. He _wouldn't_.

Sara Sidle would be safe from him.

------------------------------------

A/N: I wasn't sure if Brass's little "let your emotions out so you won't drink" speech sounded like something they would say at an AA meeting. Having never been an alcoholic, and thinking it might be rude to ask somebody who has been, I didn't ask about that one. I actually got really depressed writing the Grissom reflection thing, because as much as I don't want to believe that he could've previously been a total womanizer, something is lurking. And I hope the casefile is interesting. Last chapter had some seeeerious medical terms, which I was afraid I'd spelled extra-wrong. Review with thoughts!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Please be forewarned. This chapter contains mentions of violence and attempted rape. If you are uncomfortable with these topics, please don't read any further.

PS: I still don't own them. :sigh:

Chapter Twelve 

Sara covered Jim with the blue quilt on her couch. He'd stayed with her all day until he'd finally fallen asleep on her couch that afternoon.

He'd listened to her debate whether she should show up at Grissom's at Friday and whether Grissom's even deserved another chance.

Brass hadn't offered an opinion, only a single question. "Is he worth it?"

Sara didn't know. On some days, Grissom was more than worth it. Other days, she wouldn't have trusted him with his own safety, never mind that of her heart. With another glance at Jim's soundly sleeping form, Sara did the only thing she could think of. She pulled out a piece of paper and started a pro-con list.

-----------------------------

Grissom fiddled with his watch, trying to secure the clasp when his cell phone rang. "Grissom." He answered distractedly.

"Hey man, it's Nick."

"Hi Nick."

"Listen, we've got a case and Warrick and I are stumped. Our vic is an eighteen year old female, hit in the back of the head with a pipe, rolling on E, even though all her friends say she's clean. We thing she owed somebody some money."

"Any well-known dealers at her school?"

"I asked a contact. She said that RHS is pretty chem-free. The kids who are druggies get their stuff from Silverwood Academy."

"You get any names?" Grissom slipped his feet into his favorite loafers.

"Amy's working on it." Nick said absently.

"Amy?" Grissom didn't remember hiring any new nightshift techs or interns.

"My contact. Daughter of a friend." Grissom could tell Nick was holding something back, but he didn't pry.

"Well, when you get some names, you know what to do."

"I haven't found any motive that's led me towards anyone."

"Motive isn't your job, Nicky. You just find out who and how. That's all you need."

"I know, Grissom."

His tone made Grissom feel a little guilty. He sat on the bed. "You said she was taking E, right?"

"MDMA, pure."

"That's a start. You're looking for a high-end dealer. No cheapie's going to sell pure. Too risky and not profitable enough. They'd lace it with caffeine or another narcotic to make it more addictive.

"Well that narrows it down." Nick replied acerbically.

"Do you want my help or not, Nick?" Grissom snapped.

Cowed, Nick apologized. "I'm sorry, Girssom."

"Okay. So you're looking for an expensive dealer. Was she behaving oddly?"

"Her dad said she was extremely moody." Nick supplied.

"And what concentration of E was she taking?"

"Pure MDMA. I told you that. Weren't you listening?"  
"Nick. What are the effects of ecstasy?"

"Limited inhibitions, limited short-term memory, euphoria…" Nick rattled off.

Grissom waited.

"And she was moody. So the MDMA caused her to have mood swings? NO, she was taking 4-HTP. The E would've been…to control the swings?"

"You're getting closer. The E wouldn't have controlled the swings, but…"

"The swings were a symptom." There was a scratching noise across the line, probably Nick rubbing his jaw where stubble had grown.

"She was depressed when she wasn't rolling. She was happy when she was. It looked like mood swings, but it was just because she wasn't consistent on her 'medication.' Make sense?"

"Yeah. I'll run that by Warrick. Thanks Grissom."

"Good luck." Grissom hung up the phone and stared at it. The background was a picture of Sara at a crime scene. A picture of Sara in a dress (last year's Christmas party) flashed whenever she called. That would be the last time Lindsey ever got a hold of his cell phone. How the Hell did she do it, and how to Grissom get rid of it? A picture of his roaches might've been acceptable, but one picture, never mind two, was just plain inappropriate.

Really, what were the odds of Sara showing up on Friday? He supposed he couldn't blame her. Grissom stared at the wall and sighed, waiting for inspiration to strike.

-----------------------------

"Nick, hi." Kelli leaned against the doorframe. "Um, were we supposed to do something today?"

"Oh, no. I…Amy said she had some names for me. The investigation, I mean. Is she here?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on a sec." Kelli pressed a button on the intercom. "Amy, Nick is here to see you."

"Okay, be right down." A moment later Nick heard the distinctively light footfalls approaching. "Hey." She held out a folded sheet of paper. "Here are the names."

"Thanks." Nick stuffed the paper into his pocket.

"Okay…well…I've got homework to do." Amy glanced between the two adults. "Yeah."

"So, um, are we still on for Saturday?" Nick leaned against the kitchen counter, in an attempt to look relaxed.

"Yeah. Saturday." Kelli shoved her hands into her jeans pockets. "Listen, if you want to come over after shift, I could make some breakfast."

"That would be great." Nick worried his foot. "Kelli, I've got to be honest. A lot –"

Kelli held up a hand. "Please. If what you're about to say involves any past women you've dated or slept with, don't say it. I'd really rather not hear it."

"Point taken. I gotta get back to the lab, but I'll drop by around eightish?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." Kelli opened the door and let Nick outside. As soon as he was gone, she let out a deep breath. _You're not being unfaithful to John._ She reminded herself.

-----------------------------

Sara set down her list and pen, stretching her arms above her head. In the two hours that Sara had been sitting at her desk, she'd written a small pro-con list. _Pro: his eyes. Con: the way he treats me. Pro: his hands. Con: he's withdrawn. Pro: he's smart. Con: he can be cruel._ Sara considered the list in front of her. _All of the pros, excepting for his intelligence, are physical things. All the cons are emotional things. When he chooses to be nice and sweet, it makes my insides melt. _Sara picked up the pen and carefully added two items to her list. _Pro: he's Grissom. Con: he's Grissom._

This time, Sara flung her pen down and dropped her head into her hands. She rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. Sara groaned and picked her favorite necklace up off of her jewelry stand. The charm was a dragonfly with a small _EG_ etched into the right wing. Grissom had given her the necklace for her twenty-third birthday. He'd sent her the necklace even though she hadn't asked him for anything and hadn't sent him anything for his birthday a month earlier. The necklace was obviously important to him, but not so important that he couldn't bear to part with it. What did it mean? Or was she simply reading too much into it? She snorted. With Grissom, there was no such thing as over-analysis.

Brass was beginning to stir. "Morning." He moaned, sitting up. "How are you."

"Better." Sara took a deep breath. "I've made my decision."

-----------------------------

"Mama, _please_ may I go to the stables?" Lindsey begged. "Please, please, _please_?"

"Lindsey, please stop whining." Catherine closed her eyes. "I will take you to the stables, okay?"

"Thank you." Lindsey bounced up and down.

-----------------------------

"_Please_, Dylan?" Sophie begged. "I haven't had time to get my license yet. And mom isn't home. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't get to go riding, right?"

Dylan rolled his eyes.

"Please?" Sophie clasped her hands together.

"Fine!" Dylan shouted. "Just let me eat lunch and then we'll go."

"Thaaaaaaaaaaaank you." Sophie hugged her brother.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

-----------------------------

"Hey Lindsey." Ben poked his head out of the hay loft. "Is your mom here?"

"Nah. She just dropped me off." Lindsey bounced up the steps to the hay loft.

"Oh." Ben held out his hand to help Lindsey into the hay loft. "So are you going riding today?"

"Yeah, probably." Lindsey shrugged. "It's just nice to hang out here and not be at home." She sat next to Ben.

"I know." Ben agreed. "This is where I come to get away from my mother."

_I completely understand._ Lindsey thought adoringly.

"How old are you, Lindsey?" Ben asked.

"Fifteen." She replied.

"So you'd be in…"

"Ninth grade. What grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior." Ben stretched his legs out and crossed them again. "So why'd you start riding?"

"My grandfather left me horse."

"And the real reason?" Ben arched his eyebrow knowingly?

Lindsey glanced at Ben, ascertaining whether or not she could trust him.

"I feel stupid at school." She admitted. "I'm failing math and I can't pass a science test to save my life, even though my mom is a scientist. It's embarrassing."

"Well, I can help you with your math homework if you want? And I bet your mom would love to help you. Or if you feel uncomfortable asking your mom, what about one of her co-workers?"

Lindsey perked up. "That's a good idea. Warrick would help me."

"There you go. What else?"

"My dad. He died a few years back and I miss him. Not that he was a great person or even the best father, but he was still my dad and nobody will ever replace him, you know?"

"Yeah. Losing a parent is tough." Ben put an arm around Lindsey. "But you're a strong girl, Linds."

_Linds_. Lindsey loved the way her nickname rolled off his tongue.

"You'll come through it just fine. Just do what I did. Start a countdown to college. It helped me deal with my mother."

Lindsey leaned against Ben's firm stomach, absorbing the heat radiating off of him. _I cannot believe this. He feels _so_ good_! She tried not to smile giddily, but could prevent a smirk from crossing over her face.

Ben leaned over and rested his head on Lindsey's, placing a soothing kiss on her head. He drew her in closer, lifting her off the ground and settling her on his lap.

_What is he – oh my God, he is _kissing_ me! Kissing! And where are his hands go – hey, that's my ass! _Lindsey's eyes popped open. _Wait, I should not be moving. Ben, put me down._

"Lindsey, Lindsey…" Ben murmured, covering her body with his and sliding his hand around to loosen her chaps.

"Whoa!" Lindsey tried to push Ben off of her, but he had a good 40 pounds on her lean frame. And he was definitely stronger.

"Come on, Linds. You'll enjoy it, I promise." Her nickname from his lips no longer sounded comforting and enticing, but menacing and threatening.

"No. Get off me!" She shoved him again.

"Don't fight me, Lindsey."

"_Don't say my name_." She yelled. Warrick's voice filtered through her panicked brain.

_Bite him. Hit him. Kick him. He's not playing fair with you, you don't play fair with him._ Lindsey clamped her jaws onto the arm that was trying to remove her shirt.

"Jesus, a little softer next time, Linds." Ben leaned over.

Lindsey bit him in the ear and kneed him in the groin. It wasn't a full-contact hit, but it was enough to get him to release her. Lindsey rolled away and made a break for the staircase. Ben grabbed her ankle, pulling her back down. _Who the Hell are you?_ Lindsey screamed internally. This was not the Ben she thought she knew.

"Stop fighting me, Lindsey. I've seen they way you look at me. I know you want me." Unfortunately the kick had only been enough to unbalance him, not debilitate him. Ben held her down with renewed vigor.

Lindsey thrashed her arms at him, landing few blows. She screamed loud and long, praying that somebody – anybody – could hear her.

-----------------------------

A/N: In the next chapter, there will be a twist nobody was expecting. I'm probably going to be wrapping this up in a few chapters. I had wanted to extend it longer, but I'm afraid if I do, I'm going to ruin it, so I'm tying up the loose ends and then things are going wrap up. I'd like to thank everybody who's left a review, no matter how long or short, and everybody who's taken the time out of their day to read this story. I hope you're still enjoying it!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: So, it doesn't end here, apparently. :sigh: I have realized that despite my Grissom/Sara story-line coming to a close, the others aren't quite there yet. Thus, the next few chapters will either have reflection of some kind, minor featuring roles, or nothing at all. If this pisses you off to an unspeakable degree, just skip to the last chapter.

PS: This may sound stupid, but whatever. For those of you not living in the US, if they don't have it in your particular country, the reference to the Razr is the MotoRazr by Motorolla and is a cell phone. A really thin, shiny cell phone. Yay cell phones.

Chapter Thirteen 

"I demand some sort of bribery for driving you all the way out here to the middle of nowhere." Dylan shut off the engine.

"It's only a fifteen minute drive." Sophie rolled her eyes. "Get over it."

"Still –" Dylan was cut off by a scream.

Sophie's eyes widened. "That sounded like Lindsey!" The twins scrambled out of the car and towards the barn, where they found Lindsey with her shirt torn and Ben trying to unclasp her bra.

"Get off of her!" Dylan yelled, clambering up the stairs into the hay loft and yanking Ben off Lindsey.

"Lindsey!" Sophie held out her hands as Lindsey rushed down the stairs. "Dylan, come on. Let's get out of here."

Dylan followed behind Sophie and Lindsey, unlocking the doors to his Toyota as he ran. "Get in."

Lindsey practically flung herself into the back seat. Dylan revved the engine and sped down the gravel drive.

Sophie pulled her Razr out of her pants pocket. "Is there anyone you want to call?"

_I should call mom. _Lindsey accepted the phone. _No, she'll freak. Justifiably so. But I'm fine. Not yet. _She stared at the flat keypad. _555-2116_. She dialed quickly, before she could change her mind.

"Hello?"  
"Warrick? It's Lindsey. Can you come pick me up?"

---------------------------

"Hey. Come in. You look cold." Kelli held the door open for Nick.

"Ten years living in Vegas and I still forget how cold it can get at night, especially in winter." Nick shivered.

"Well, I've got some coffee brewing." Kelli pointed to the pot. She seemed to look everywhere but at Nick.

"Is everything okay?" Nick took a seat at the breakfast nook.

"I don't know that I'm ready to meet Gil." She busied herself laying bacon, eggs, and a stack of pancakes onto a plate for Nick.

"Why not?" Nick devoured the pancakes.

"What if he doesn't like me? What if he resents me?" She worried her lip.

"Grissom won't dislike you. He _can't_. Ad the only person he resents is himself."

"Still, what if I really am his half-sister and he's mad that his dad left his mom and I'm the product of that?"

"Grissom's doesn't hold people accountable for other people's mistakes." He assured her.

She bit her lip again.

---------------------------

"Lindsey?" Warrick called.

"In here." She stared blankly at the wall.

"What happened? Where's your mother? Is she okay?"

"She's fine." Lindsey continued staring at the wall.

"Lindsey, what –"

"Mr. Brown? I'm Sophie McAllister and this is my brother, Dylan."

"It's nice to meet you. What exactly is going on?"

"Mr. Brown, uh…" Sophie fidgeted nervously. "Dylan and I…ourridinginstructorattackedLindsey." She breathed out.

Warrick blinked. "Say tha once more, slowly." He commanded.

"Ben, our riding instructor, attacked Lindsey." She winced. "Dylan pulled him off."

Warrick was quiet for a moment. Then, "_WHAT_?"

"He –"

"I heard you!" He exploded. "Where is this Ben? I'll kill him. Lindsey, we're pressing charges."

"No, Warrick, he didn't hurt me."

"The Hell he didn't!"

"I liked him." Lindsey whimpered. "Please don't be mad at me, Warrick. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Warrick realized what was wrong. "Oh, Lindsey, sweetheart, nobody, _nobody_, is mad at you. Come on. You can come to my house for a while. You don't have to go home just yet."

"Mom will be mad." Lindsey said sadly. "She warned me. Last year she warned me that this would happen. She said so."

"We won't tell your mom just yet, okay?" Warrick wrapped his arms around Lindsey. "You let me take care of your mom, sweetheart."

Lindsey nodded tearfully.

"Good."

The drive to Warrick's was deadly silent. Lindsey stared blankly and Warrick fiddled with the steering wheel, having his hands at 10 and 2 for the first time since his driving test when he was sixteen.

"Hey baby." Tina Brown was all smiles until she saw the expression on her husband's face. "What's going on, Warrick?"

"Not now, Tina." Warrick said curtly.

"Don't talk to me like that." Tina's hands flew to her hips.

"_Not now_." Warrick gritted. He grabbed Lindsey's hand and dragged her into the den. "Tina, please, just understand."

Tina eyed him angrily. "We'll talk about this later."

"Fine." Warrick shut the door. "Lindsey, did you defend yourself?"

"Of course!" Lindsey nodded. "Just like you told me. I bit him in the arm and the ear, and I think I broke the skin."

"Good. We can press charges, Lindsey. This is _not _your fault. Tell me exactly what happened, just the facts."

"Mom dropped me off at the stables and I went inside. Ben was in the hay loft, so I went upstairs to chat with him. We were talking about my school issues. He offered to help me with my math. Then we talked about my dad." She took a deep breath. "And he peut his arm around me, then he kissed me, and…" She broke off.

"It's okay, Lindsey. He's _not_ going to hurt you, even if I have to become your shadow and fight him with my bare hands."

She giggled.

"Tell you what, we don't have to tell your mom any details. I can make the report or Grissom can. Who do you want to make the report?"

"You." She said quietly. "He kissed me and then he tried to undress me. He held me down, so I bit him."

"I'm very proud of you for that. We'll take a mold of your teeth. Then we'll compare it to his arm and ear."

She nodded again. "Then I kicked him in the, uh…" She blushed.

"Groin?"

"Yes. I tried to get away, but then he attacked me again. He had pinned me down again when Dylan and Sophie came in and Dylan pulled him off me. I ran. That's when we called you."

"Okay. Let's go down to the lab and make a report."

"Sure."

Tina stepped away from the door. _So that's what you're hiding_.

---------------------------

"You must be Catherine." Tina eyed the blonde. So this was the woman Warrick had been infatuated with before her. "I'm Tina. I'll get straight to the point. Your daughter was attacked today. A teacher of hers, I think. She and Warrick went to the lab."

Catherine's pretty blue eyes clouded over. "Was he planning on telling me this?"

Tina tried not to smile. This would be an unfixable fight. Warrick and Catherine would probably never speak again.

"I have to go." Catherine grabbed her purse.

---------------------------

"Warrick Brown!" Catherine bellowed, storming into Grissom's office, exactly where Grissom had said Warrick would be.

"Catherine." Warrick jumped.

"Mom." Lindsey was in the middle of signing her name to her official statement.

"Lindsey, baby, why didn't you call me?" She knelt and hugged Lindsey. "Where is he? I'm going to kill that little scum-sucking slimeball."

"Catherine," Warrick started.

"Don't you start with me. You should have called me the instant, the _instant_, that she called you."

"I asked him not to." Lindsey defended Warrick.

"It's okay, Lindsey." Warrick faced Catherine and held out the report. "We reported it. Grissom is going to get a mold of where Lindsey bit him. He's going down for this, Cath."

Catherine turned to Lindsey again. "Did he hurt you?"

Lindsey shook her head. "I got away."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry." Catherine hugged Lindsey tightly. "If I had been there…"

"I would have let you be." Lindsey said.

---------------------------

"You screw it up, I kill you." Archie warned Nick, tossing him a look as he exited the room.

Nick settled at the computer in Archie's lab and logged into the police database. He glanced at the paper next to him. _Travis Butler_ he typed. The computer hummed and whirred, then beeped, flashing the no information screen. Nick went down the list. Josh Baker had been arrested for possession with intent to distribute a year ago. Nick scribbled down his address. Chris Shane had a black mark for expired tabs on his car. The other dealers obviously hadn't gotten caught. Tiredly, Nick entered the last name on the list. Ben Cavanaugh had been arrested for attempted rape, but the idiot arresting officer didn't Mirandize him, so his case was dropped.

Nick grabbed the list and went to find Brass.

---------------------------

"Did you know Amber Carlin?" Nick asked Josh Baker.

"Yeah. She was a nice girl." Josh shrugged.

"Did you ever sell to her?" Brass inquired.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Josh leaned back against his couch. "What do you have for me?"

"Hey, Brass." He pointed to the small plastic baggy filled with a suspicious green plant substance resting on Josh's desk.

"Tell you what, Joshy. You tell us what you know, and we don't bust your sorry ass for possession, again." Brass glanced at his copy of Baker's license. "And look, somebody just hand a birthday. You're legal."

Josh blanched.

"Now, did you ever sell to her?" Brass asked again.

"Just weed, man. I'm small-time. You want big-time, you gotta talk to Mr. Green."

"_Mr. Green_?" Nick smirked. "Who's Mr. Green?"

"I don't know his real name. Look, Amber liked a little buzz when she partied. I gave it to her clean, nothing else in it. Then she came to me for some hardcore. MDMA. I don't have the contacts. So she said she'd go to Mr. Green. That's all I know."

"Any idea where we can find this Mr. Green?" Nick interjected.

"No clue."

"Why, exactly do they call him 'Mr. Green'?" Brass asked.

"'Cause he requires cash. And lots of it." Baker's expression softened. "She was a nice girl. A little screwed up, but nice. Her dad didn't help either. He was always gone. Amber would get really depressed. We'd get baked and she'd forget about it. Like I said, nice girl. And I didn't kill her."

Brass pursed his lips. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Baker."

---------------------------

A/N: Uh-oh, trouble's a-brewin!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: So this is it, the end. :sob: I can't believe I actually finished it, though. And I'm really fairly happy with how it turned out. Since I'm nearing the end, I'd like thank a few people who've made this story not only possible, but a fun experience. Let's start with my most faithful reviewer **DaVinci13. **Every single chapter, and each and every review made me smile. **Madame Lulu/Blaze**, who wrote me some of the longest reviews I've ever gotten, which also really cheered me up. **CSINut214** who has just been a general inspiration to me, but also someone who I've been able to bounce a lot of really stupid ideas off of, and finally, **Maggs**, who walked me through my whole let's-give-Grissom-hemorrhagic-fever phase. Mad props to her for talking me out of _that_ tree. So, here goes.

PS: Since it's the last chapter, I decided to make it hella long.

Chapter Fourteen 

"Benjamin Cavanaugh, open the door. This is the Las Vegas police!" Sophia shouted, Warrick waiting behind her.

"Can I help you?" Ben opened the door and smiled, revealing almost every one of his pearly whites.

"We have a warrant for a sample of your FNA and to take molds of your ear and your left arm."

"Come again?" Ben kept smiling.

"Is your mother or father home?"

"My father doesn't live here. Mom's in North Carolina."

Sophia nodded. "Do you acknowledge that you understand the meaning of this warrant?"

"Yes."

Sophia lifted her head to Warrick in assent. Warrick uncapped a swab and brushed it around the inside of Ben's cheek and took a mold of his arm and ear.

"Don't go anywhere." Sophia warned Ben.

---------------------------

"Oh, you're home." Tina lounged against the couch.

"Why did you tell Catherine, Tina? Why couldn't you trust my judgment?"

"I do trust you." Tina's eyes widened.

"What were we thinking when we got married?" Warrick shook his head.

"Warrick?"

"We got married at a _drive-thru_ wedding chapel. What do we really know about each other?"

"We know that we love each other." Tina tried.

"What were you _thinking_?" He yelled. "I told you I would explain it later, but you didn't trust me!"

"Warrick –"

"I can't be here right now." Warrick stormed out of the house.

---------------------------

Lindsey hugged her teddy bear to her chest and curled up on her bed.

"Lindsey?"

Lindsey sat up. "Oh, Dylan. Come on in."

Dylan sat at Lindsey's desk. "I wanted to check on you."

"Thank you." She said shyly. Dylan looked entirely different from the first time she'd met him. The thick black glasses were gone and she could see his clear blue eyes. His fair hair was slightly tousled and his high-water khakis and starched shirt had been replaced with slouchy jeans a loosely fitted white and blue checked button-down shirt. _Swimmer_, Lindsey thought, recognizing the lean muscle.

"I uh, would ask you how you're doing, but I think the answer's pretty obvious."

"I'm recovering." She shrugged.

"You know, it'd be okay if you weren't okay."

"I'm fine." She insisted.

"Lindsey…"

"I said I'm fine!" She shouted. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm FINE!" Lindsey screamed tearfully.

Dylan stood from the desk and wrapped his arms around Lindsey.

---------------------------

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Catherine called, tugging open the door. "Warrick."

"Hey. Listen, I wanted to apologize."

"I understand. You were just trying to protect Lindsey the best you knew how."

"How is she doing?" Warrick asked.

"As well as can be expected, I guess." Catherine shrugged.

"Cath, can we talk?" Warrick glanced around nervously.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go to the kitchen."

---------------------------

"Hey, I got a print off that pipe." Jaqui stopped Nick. "Benjamin Cavanaugh. One prior for attempted rape."

"I'' call him in."

"Oh, and Hodges told me to tell you that Silverwood's colors are green and silver, and they just bought thirty gallons of dark green paint for school repairs."

"So the killer used a pipe from his school, which had gotten green paint on it. Thanks Jacqui."

"Sure thing, Nick."

"Thanks."

---------------------------

"We found your prints on this pipe." Nick slid a photo across the table to Cavanaugh's lawyer.

"So my client picked up a pipe." The lawyer sneered. "He helps out with repairs for Silverwood High School."

"The pipe was used to kill Amber Carlin." Nick retorted.

"Gloves, CSI Stokes. If the real killer used gloves, of course, my client's prints would be the only ones present." Lawyer McSmarmy stood. "If that's all you have, we'll be going now."

"Sit down, counselor." Brass directed the lawyer. "Your client is a known drug dealer who we believe goes by the alias of Mr. Green. The green paint wasn't there by accident, was it?"

"The transfer was fresh." Nick picked up the narrative. "The paint was to remind Amber to pay up. You didn't mean to kill her. One blow should've knocked her out, right? But you underestimated your strength. You killed her. And when you realized she wasn't breathing, you ran for it. But on your way, you also ran into Amy Paxton. And she startled you, so you hit her. But you weren't going to make the same mistake twice." He tossed a photo of Amy's neck at the lawyer. "He checked her pulse. Explain your client's prints on the murder weapon, and an assault victim. Plus motive and opportunity. You were at the game that night. We got this from the security cameras at the gym's doors." Another photo slid across the table.

Brass grinned. "I always enjoy this part. I was the king of Clue. So I'd like to make an accusation. Mr. Green, in the gym, with the pipe. Benjamin Cavanaugh, you're under arrest for the murder of Amber Carlin, the assault of Amy Paxton –"

"And the attempted rape of a minor." Warrick burst into the interview room.

"Warrick." Brass started.

"I'll explain later."

"And the sexual assault of a minor." Brass added the charge to the list. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

---------------------------

"Gil." Anna said. "I left a beef casserole in the fridge and a slice of pie for each of you. I'll see you later, kay?"

"Yeah. Thanks Anna."

"No problem." Anna glanced around. "Crap. Where did Heather go?"

"I didn't notice she was here."

Anna sighed. "She probably got bored and left. Oh well. Bye."

"See you later." He closed the door behind Anna and went into the kitchen to heat up some lunch.

"How 'bout some tea?" A sultry voice from behind asked.

"Oh, Heather. Anna just left. You can probably still catch her if –"

"I know." Heather purred. "I'm here to see you."

_Okay, apparently subtle seduction is out the window and she's going with desperation._

"Heather, I don't know how I can make myself clear. I made a mistake three years ago. Several of them, one of which was accusing you of murder. I'm sorry if I led you on, but I don't foresee any relationship for us."

Heather looked sufficiently chastised. "Oh my God. What am I doing? She turned and fled.

Grissom stood stock-still, completely baffled.

---------------------------

_"So, what did you want to talk about?" Catherine poured herself a gin and tonic._

_Warrick was quiet for a long time, but finally found his voice. When Nick was abducted, I realized how short life could be, and I didn't want to miss anything. So I married Tina. The second the minister said 'may I present, for the first time…' my heart clenched. Tina and I had fun, but I don't know what I was thinking. She's not who I want to spend my life with." He took Catherine's hand. "Why didn't you say something last year?" He towered over Catherine by nearly a foot. "I can't stay with her, Catherine. I can't. I want to be here with you and Lindsey."_

He's going to leave her for you! _Catherine thought giddily. Then she realized who she was. _Eddie left you for another woman. Is that who you're going to be, Cath? One of Eddie's music whores?

_"I won't let you." She pulled her hand away. "I won't let you leave her for me. I'm not going to be that woman."_

_"I'm not leaving her for you." Warrick said exasperatedly. "I'm leaving her because I don't love her. Loving you has made me realize that a loveless marriage won't work. Not for me. I'm not leaving her for you."_

_"You should go." Catherine was shaking with the effort to resist._

_"Cath-"_

_"Please." She teared. "Please, before I change my mind."_

---------------------------

Warrick twisted the ring on his finger. What was this marriage? Wasz it from his heart or was it a knee-jerk reaction to Nick's capture? Warrick twisted the ring one more time before sliding it off his finger it placing it on their bed.

_No. Tina's bed._

---------------------------

Grissom turned off the engine to his Denali and stared at the lab. The one place that had always been good to him. It was routine.

With a resigned sigh, Grissom opened the door to the car and walked towards the lab. He headed to the break room for a cup of coffee.

"You and Grissom are nothing alike. It's impossible to believe that you're related, never mind brother and sister."

Grissom stopped short. _Say WHAT_? He peeked into the break room to look at Nick's companion. She was tall and blonde, with expertly coiffed hair, though she seemed more serious than Nick's usual type. And he never invited previous girlfriends to the lab.

"Hey Nick." Grissom grabbed his coffee mug from the cabinet about the sink. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Kelli."

_Does your friend have a _last_ name_? Grissom wanted to ask.

"Kelli Grissom." She looked Grissom squarely in the eye.

"Gil Grissom." He shook her hand.

Nick glanced between the two as though they were playing a tennis match.

"Nice to meet you." She replied politely.

Grissom's expression softened. "Are you my sister?"

"I think so." Kelli whispered.

Grissom didn't hug, and meeting his long lost half-sister didn't change that. "I, uh, Nick, could we have a minute?"

"Yeah. Sure." Nick fled the room.

"I'm not exactly sure what to say here." Grissom flexed his hand.

"Me either." Kelli lingered by the couch.

"It's nice to meet you."

"I think we already covered that." Kelli laughed. "You're different than I expected to be."

Grissom did a double take. "You knew about me?"

"Nicky. He and Warrick said something when they first heard my last name."

"Oh, Grissom. You're back. Great, because I need your help on something." Catherine glanced up at Grissom. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"Kelli, let me give you my number and we can get together and talk about this sometime, okay?"

"Sure. Just put your number on here." She handed him her cell phone. Grissom entered his number and then turned to Catherine. "What do you need?"

"I need you to look at something in the layout room." Grissom was halfway out the door before she could finish saying 'layout room.' "Who was that?"

"My sister."

"Your _what_?" Catherine stopped short.

A slow, small smile spread over Grissom's face. "My sister."

---------------------------

Sara carefully selected her clothes for the evening. Cotton pajamas with ducks printed on them and a black terrycloth robe. If she wasn't going to Grissom's tonight, then she was going to be comfortable in her misery.

_If you're so miserable, go to him._ Her mind argued. _It's eleven thirty. You can make it there in twenty minutes._

Sara couldn't come up with a counter-argument. All she'd asked for from Grissom was that he try, and now he was. Didn't she owe him the same?

Sara cast aside the robe and pajamas and grabbed the first dress she could lay her hands on. It was a charcoal gray dress, the one Grissom had mentioned she looked nice in. She left the jacket on her bed and grabbed a gauzy black shrug instead. Sara slipped into a pair of low black heels and practically bolted out the door.

---------------------------

The food had gotten cold. His stomach rumbled angrily, like thunder and lightning in tandem with the flickering candlelight. The Vivaldi _Four Seasons_ CD he'd been playing had run out after the first hour. Since then he'd run through Tschaichovsky's _Romeo and Juliet_, Elgar's _Salut D'Amour_ and given up on listening to romantic music, listening to Corelli's _La Folia_ and Dvorak's _Slavonic Dances._

Grissom glanced at his microwave clock. 11:50.

---------------------------

"NO!" Sara screamed, beating the steering wheel. She was stuck behind some moron who'd tried to pull a completely illegal u-turn on a busy street on a Friday evening. Said moron had broadsided a Honda Civic with his Hummer.

_I hate the world_. Sara thought bitterly. She reached for her cell phone. _Damn it! My purse is on the table. Fuck. I'm driving without my license _and _I don't have my phone. Can this day go any worse?_

As if perfectly on cue, Sara heard a gush of air and the right side of her car sank. Fuck

_Ask and ye shall receive._

"Leave me alone!" She screamed at the roof. "Let me be!" Sara pounded her steering wheel once more for good measure and glanced at the clock.

11:59.

---------------------------

_It's 12:15. She's not coming_. Grissom told himself sadly. His stomach, which had previously been loud enough to drown out an AC/DC concert in full swing, stayed quiet. The pasta with cream sauce and mixed roasted vegetables went into the garbage. The bruschetta appetizers followed. And perched on the top of the microwave was the cake he'd spent all afternoon painstakingly making. Grissom was no chef, but he could grill a steak and put together a respectable tray of appetizers.

But in an effort to impress Sara, he'd called his mother on the TTY for help. She'd walked him through the steps of making a white chocolate cake with blueberry topping and two delicate swans made out of meringue, just waiting to be put on the cake. Grissom carefully sealed the swans into a tupperware container and sealed the cake in another container and placed it in the fridge.

He blew out the candles.

---------------------------

12:22, she noted, flooring the gas and turning off the main road. Sara managed to make it to Grissom's in under ten minutes after getting past the jam. 12:31. She knocked on Grissom's door. "Grissom!"

---------------------------

"Grissom!" The voice was muffled, but there was no doubt about its owner.

"Sara?" He opened the door to find her standing on his porch, cheeks flushed and eyes wild.

"Grissom, I'm so sorry I'm late." She nearly burst into tears. "I wasn't coming and then I was and _please _say I'm not too late."

Grissom reached out to her and kissed her. It was the softest, most tender kiss she'd ever been given, and somehow still the most electrifying.

"No. You're not too late." He whispered, voice breaking.

Fifteen years later, she kissed him.


End file.
